The Long Way Home
by MyChaosTheory
Summary: It's been 3 years since Punk was convicted, and he hasn't seen AJ or his son Phillip since the day he was taken away. Now out on parole, all he wants to do is get his life back. But a lot has changed in his absense, and AJ still hasn't forgiven him for abandoning her. Can Punk win his family back, or did that dream die in prison? [Sequel to End of Heartache and In Fate's Hands]
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Hey, all! That's right, the sequel to In Fate's Hands is here! You didn't think I'd just leave Punk in prison, did you? ;) For those of you who haven't read the prequels to this story, End of Heartache and in Fate's Hands, it is strongly suggested you do so or you might be a little lost. But if you don't have the time to read it all, there's a summary of End of Heartache at the end of the first chapter of In Fate's Hands, and there will be a summary of In Fate's Hands at the end of this chapter. Anyway, here it is. Enjoy!  
**

* * *

**_February 26th, 2014- One month after the trial_**

_"You have to tell him!" Colt insisted. "I know you're upset, but he has a right to know."_

_"He lost that right when he pushed me and Phillip away!" AJ cried. "I don't have to tell him anything. No, he made that perfectly clear the day he… he…" She couldn't even say it. Images of Punk being led away to the police cruiser flashed before her with horrifying clarity. She shook her head, unwilling to shed any more tears that morning than she already had. "He wouldn't even speak to Phillip on his birthday last week! Do you know what that feels like? For your son's father to refuse to talk to him on his first birthday? He still cries for Punk! Every night! You know that!"_

_"I know, I know," he replied miserably. "But AJ, he's still-"_

_"They turned me away at the gate, Colt!" she reminded him. "I flew to New Jersey with Phillip, and they told me I was on the list of visitors to refuse! He doesn't want me anymore!"_

_"You know that's not true," he pressed. "I told you why. He just… He doesn't want either of you to see him behind bars. He doesn't want to hurt you every time you visit and have to pull yourself away at the end of the hour. It's not fair to you. He's doing this _because _he loves you."_

_"So he's just insane then, is that it?" she asked dubiously. "Because he'd have to be either crazy or stupid to think seeing him a few times a month is worse than not seeing him at all!"_

_Colt sighed. "You'll understand someday," he assured her. _

_"I don't care," she spat hatefully. "He clearly doesn't, so why should I?"_

* * *

**January 17****th****, 2017**

"Good morning."

"Good morning," Punk said, nodding in greeting to each of the suited men seated behind the table. Lowering himself into the chair provided for him, he had to fight back the urge to smile a little- for the first time in three years, he was the only person in the room wearing a blue jumpsuit. Thinking about that eased his nerves a little. He'd been anxious about this hearing for weeks, and it was rapidly becoming evident as his knees began to bounce up and down of their own accord. He quickly shoved them down, flattening his palms and forcing his legs to be still.

"We're here today to determine your eligibility for parole," one of the men announced, hands folded in front of him. "Please state your name for the record."

"Phillip Jack Brooks," Punk replied. Again, his knees began to bounce. _Stop that,_ he ordered himself. _You will not fuck this up, understand? You're getting the fuck out of here._

"Mr. Brooks, we'd like to ask you a few questions," the head of the parole board said. "What offense were you convicted of?"

"Attempted murder," he answered. _Why such a simple question? _he wondered. Surely they had his file right in front of them; they had to know why he was here.

"And can you tell us why you committed this crime?"

Punk swallowed hard; suddenly he wished for the easy answers again. He'd been practicing this speech for months, but now that the time was finally here, he found it much more difficult to actually get the words out. "The… victim," he began slowly, "had been terrorizing my family for months. He tried to kill my son. He tried to rape my wife on our wedding day. He was threatening us and becoming increasingly violent as time went on."

"So you were motivated by revenge?" one of the other board members prompted.

"No, no," Punk assured him quickly. "I just wanted to protect my family. It was defense."

"And you couldn't think of a better way to do that?" asked another. "Calling the police, reporting him to your bosses, anything?"

_This is like court, _he thought. "I tried all of that," he said. "He was never charged for anything, and the WWE just kept fining him and letting it go."

"So this was just a one-time occurrence, then," the last member said.

"Absolutely," Punk confirmed. He was sure everyone in the room could hear his heart pounding.

"And if you were released, would you seek out your victim again, to finish what you started?"

"No!" he nearly yelled, alarmed. "No. Never. I never even meant to kill him; I didn't even try. I just wanted injure him enough so that he couldn't hurt anyone anymore. But I've known since I did it that it was wrong, and I've regretted it every second that's passed since then."

"Then what would you do, if you were released?"

He took a deep breath; this one was hard, so he settled on giving a generic answer. "Try to see if I can salvage my wrestling career," he said. "Move on with my life."

The head of the board nodded. "I understand you have someone speaking on your behalf," he said, glancing down at his file. He frowned. "Bryan Danielson? Your victim?"

Punk nodded. "Yes, sir," he replied. It hadn't surprised him at all that Daniel was speaking for him, after the speech he made at the sentencing hearing. As a victim, Daniel had been notified of Punk's upcoming parole hearing; in most cases, this was so the victim could argue _against _the prisoner being released. But not this time. As soon as he received the call, Daniel had written him a letter, assuring Punk he would be here for him today.

"Guard, can you please fetch Mr. Danielson?"

The door behind Punk opened, and a moment later, Daniel walked in.

_Walked?_

Before he could stop himself Punk had burst from his chair, mouth agape as he stared at the formerly crippled man. Punk almost didn't recognize him- he looked like the man he'd been years ago, complete with the muscles and facial hair that were once his costume. And he was _walking_! Punk couldn't believe it, but here Daniel was, grinning at him.

"Mr. Brooks, sit down!" one of the board members demanded.

"I'm sorry," Punk said quickly, shaking out of his trance. He returned to his chair. "It's just… the last time I saw him, he was in a wheelchair."

"Didn't expect to see me at eye level, did you?" Daniel asked, with a small smirk.

Punk almost laughed. "You didn't tell me this in your letter," he said. "What, did you want to make sure I had a heart attack when you came in? How did you do it, anyway?"

"A few more operations and years of physical therapy," Daniel replied.

The head of the board cleared his throat. "Gentlemen?"

"Sorry," they said, in unison.

He rolled his eyes. "All right, Mr. Danielson, why are you here today?"

Daniel cleared his throat. "I'm here on Punk- er, Phil's behalf," he answered. "I know this isn't usually how it goes, the victim asking that his attacker be released… But I wasn't the victim in this case. Phil was- Phil and his family. He's been away from them for a long time. He didn't deserve to be here in the first place. What he did to me… it was to stop me from doing something horrible. Maybe there might have been another way, but at the time, there wasn't." He sighed. "He's been punished enough. Please… send him home to his family."

* * *

"Phillip!" AJ called. "Be careful! Don't jump off the slide!"

"But Mommy-" Phillip began.

"No buts," she interrupted. "If I see you jumping again we're going home, got it?" Sighing good-naturedly, she crossed the playground to return to the bench. A breeze swept by her; she instinctively hugged her arms, rubbing them for warmth. It was a cold winter day in Chicago, and the absence of snow did nothing to quell the cutting wind. It amazed her that children could play outside in temperatures like this, as though they were numb to it all.

"They grow so fast," Colt mused. "A month before four yet and he's already defiant." _Remind you of anyone? _he thought, but the words remained unspoken on his lips.

"They do," AJ agreed, smiling dreamily. "Weird, isn't it?"

"He's going to be such an arrogant prick when he grows up," he noted.

"He will not!" she laughed, slapping his arm playfully. "Shut up!"

He merely shrugged, chuckling. "Hey, I'm just going off what I know," he said slyly. As he prepared for another retort, he felt something buzz against his leg. "Hold on a sec. Phone's ringing." He pulled it out of his pocket, frowning slightly at the number. "I'll… be right back." He slid off the bench and started walking, until he was well out of earshot of her.

AJ simply turned her attention back to the playground, watching the blur of boys and girls fly past the monkey bars, the jungle gym, the swing set, the slides. It was so peaceful to watch them at play, bouncing about so carefree. She wondered what it was like to have no responsibilities like that. She was still deep in thought when she felt the bench creak slightly, turning to see Colt had joined her again. "Who was it?" she asked.

He hesitated for a moment, looking down at the dead grass beneath his feet.

"Colt?" she prompted.

"It was Punk," he answered finally. "He's getting out next week. They're paroling him."

* * *

**In Fate's Hands summary:**

**-Punk and AJ are called to a WWE board of directors meeting, where a member of the Mattel Toys board accuses Punk of injuring Daniel Bryan on purpose  
-The board member, Jameson, brings his evidence to the police, who indict him for attempted murder  
-Punk is arrested at an arena before RAW; he's contacted by a lawyer, Paxton, who wants to represent him  
-AJ can't bail Punk out, because their bank account is frozen; Punk is in jail for a week, where he is severely beaten by other inmates  
-AJ contacts Chris Jericho, who bails Punk out; he, AJ, and Colt rush Punk to the hospital  
-Punk is immediately operated on for his injuries, and is sent home a week and a half later  
-A few months pass as Paxton prepares Punk's defense for trial  
-Daniel calls Jameson, demanding he call it off; Jameson informs Daniel it's out of his hands now  
-The trial begins after jury selection, with assistant district attorney Lisa Meyers for the prosecution  
-All the while, Punk and AJ's relationship is becoming more and more strained  
-Daniel calls Paxton and begs to testify on Punk's behalf; Paxton refuses, knowing it would damage the case  
-A fan who Punk mistakenly hit years ago, John Lauranitis, Jameson, and Daniel's doctor testify for the prosecution  
-The prosecution rests, and the next day Paul Heyman and Michael Hayes testify for the defense  
-Meyers rips apart Hayes' testimony; feeling hopeless, Punk leaves AJ, convinced it will be easier and less painful for her and Phillip to be separated from him  
-Colt is furious at Punk's decision and refuses to take him in; overcome with grief, AJ and Colt have a one night stand  
-Colt admits it to Punk the next day, and the two have a brawl in Punk's hotel room; AJ feels horrible about it  
-Daniel flies to New Jersey to talk to AJ  
-Zack, Kofi, and Kaitlyn testify, and are torn apart by Meyers  
****-AJ confronts Punk, who takes both her and Colt back, about what Daniel told her  
-It is revealed that Jameson was behind Daniel's brief firing years ago, Paxton represented Daniel in the case, Jameson went after Punk as an apology to Daniel, and Daniel asked Paxton to help Punk  
-The defense rests and the case goes to the jury; three days later they find him guilty  
-Daniel speaks at Punk's sentencing hearing, getting him a lower sentence  
-Punk asks AJ not to wait for him, and tells Colt to keep her and Phillip away while he's in prison  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: WOW! When I woke up this morning I had 42 emails in my inbox, all with follows, favorites, and reviews! Thank you so much, everyone. It's truly flattering and humbling and I appreciate each and every one of you. It looks like there are some high expectations for this story. I hope I do not disappoint. Onto chapter 2, enjoy!**

* * *

**January 27****th****, 2017**

Three years.

That was how long it had been since Punk last breathed the fresh, crisp air of the outside world. Since he took a single step that was not under the watchful eyes of cameras and guards. Since he slept on a bed with a mattress that didn't feel like it was made of cardboard. Since he ate food that wasn't reheated, refried slop. Since he had worn anything other than a blue jumpsuit. Since he sat in front of a television. Since he opened a comic book. Since his view of the world wasn't grated by a chain-link fence, guarded by a high tower, blocked by a concrete wall.

Since he'd seen the two people he loved the most.

"One black suit," said the intake inventory manager, noting it on his clipboard as he passed the garment across the desk. "One white shirt. One black tie. One black belt. One pair of black shoes. One pair of black socks. One cell phone. One set of keys. One black wallet with ID card, debit card, photo holder, subway pass, and $42 in cash. One lip ring." Suddenly he looked down, hesitating for a moment. "One wedding ring."

"Thank you," Punk replied quietly, looking down at the array of items before him. It was everything he'd been wearing and had in his pockets when he was taken to prison. He slipped the wedding ring slowly onto his ring finger, then put his lip ring in. He frowned, rolling his tongue over the addition to his lip; after being without the accessory for so long, it would take some time to get used to wearing it again. He crammed everything else into the large brown paper bag he'd been provided.

"You can change over there," the manager told him, pointing to a stall on the other side of the room. Punk nodded, and pulled the curtain closed before eagerly shedding his jumpsuit. The material was scratchy and confining; he was glad to be rid of it. He pulled on the suit, surprised at how different it felt. He hadn't worn pants that were separate from his shirt in a long time, and it didn't fit right anymore. It felt much tighter than he remembered. But that didn't matter. It was regular clothing, and it was something he had missed.

Pocketing his phone, wallet, and keys, he slipped his socks and shoes on. He considered putting on the tie but quickly decided against it, draping it around his neck instead. Straightening his jacket, he stepped out of the stall to face the guard who was waiting for him.

"Ready?" the guard asked.

"So fucking ready," Punk muttered in reply. He followed the guard down the long entrance hallway.

"Do you have anyone to pick you up?"

He hesitated. "I hope so," he answered, wincing as a loud buzzer sounded above him. His breath hitched in his throat; the front gate was really sliding open. The guard wasn't yanking him back or cuffing him. This was really happening. In just a few short seconds, he would step through the gate rejoin society. But what would be waiting for him on the other side?

The guard smiled at him and jabbed him in the ribs playfully with his elbow. "Don't come back, all right?" he said. "I never want to see you again."

"I think you can count on that," Punk assured him with a harsh laugh.

"Be careful out there, Brooks." The guard turned to walk back inside.

Taking a deep breath, Punk passed through the threshold, out into the parking lot. He amazed at how different the air felt, even just a few short steps away from the prison. It was as though the building behind him were a completely different world; he was an astronaut coming back to Earth from the moon. He had to stop in the middle of the lot, just to inhale the scent of freedom.

"Hey!" came a call from across the tarmac. "You gonna stand there all day, or are you gonna get your skinny fat ass the fuck over here and see my pretty face?"

Punk smiled. "I was hoping you'd be here," he said.

Colt grinned back. "You think I'd miss this?" he asked. "Hell no."

He crossed the parking lot to reach what he assumed was Colt's rental car, punching his best friend in the shoulder. "Where the hell have you been, asshole? You didn't come see me last week like you said you said you were going to. I was getting used to seeing your mug every two weeks. Did you run out of money or something?"

"Not really," Colt replied as he unlocked the car. "I sort of… got into a fight."

"Really?" Punk asked with a chuckle. "With who?"

He hesitated for a moment, occupying himself with his keys. "AJ," he answered finally.

_AJ. _Just hearing her name made his hand instantly fly to his wedding band, which he began to twist out of habit. Some things never change. He fell silent, staring down at his scuffed shoes as he fiddled incessantly with his ring.

"I see you're still wearing it," Colt pointed out.

Punk nodded. "How… how is she?" he asked.

"Good," he answered with a nod of his own. "She's good. Phillip, too. Really great."

_Phillip. _His son must be huge now! What was today… January 27th, right? That meant he was turning four in only a few short weeks. For years old… How much had Punk missed? His first day of preschool, surely. And his first birthday, too. And his first complete sentence, his first run, his first haircut, his first tricycle, his first trip to the beach, his first skinned knee, his first game of catch…

"Fuck," Colt murmured. "I didn't upset you, did I?"

Punk shook his head quickly. "No, no," he assured him. "It's okay." He looked around, shivering. "Fuck this place, man. Let's get out of here." He got into the passenger seat, joined quickly by Colt. "So where are we headed, anyway?"

"Airport," Colt answered, starting up the car. "Our flight leaves in a few hours. We're going home."

At this, Punk laughed. "Home," he said. "Do I even have a home anymore?"

"Of course you do!" Colt smacked his arm. "You're staying at my place, you idiot. Where the hell else did you think you would go?"

"But I can't contribute," Punk pressed. "I gave AJ pretty much everything. I think I have a few thousand bucks to my name now."

"It'll be fine," Colt said with a chuckle. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure you'll get back on your feet soon enough." He paused as he pulled onto the highway. "You know, you look… bigger. I couldn't really tell while you were in prison blues, but now that you're in regular clothes again, it shows."

It was true; Punk had gained some mass over the years, with more defined muscles. He wasn't nearly as lean as he used to be. "There's not much to do in prison but work out," he admitted. "I've never had muscles on my stomach I could see. It feels a little strange." He looked at the dashboard. "Hey, can I turn on the radio?"

Colt smiled. "Go for it," he said.

Punk eagerly pushed the knob, flipping through a few stations before landing on one that was playing rock, and the soothing sound of an into guitar rift drifted beautifully into his ears. He didn't recognize the song, but it didn't matter. It was music. At this point, even some sugary pop tune would have sounded like angels singing to him. That was another thing he'd missed so sorely- his dear punk rock, the ballads he'd grown up to and lived by.

"So what's the first thing you want to do when we get back to Chicago?" Colt asked. "Go see your sisters? Hit the tattoo shop? Swing by the old comics place? Visit Steel Dominion? Ace is still running the place. I'm sure he'd love to see you."

"I want to see AJ and Phillip," Punk answered, without hesitation.

Colt bit his lip. "I… don't know if that's such a good idea," he said.

"She still hates me, doesn't she?" he asked, sighing. "Fuck, it's not like I don't deserve it. I realized about a year and a half ago how fucking stupid I was being, pushing her away. I can't fucking believe it took me so long to figure out it wasn't helping either of us. But by then, it was too late. She wasn't returning my calls and all my letters were getting sent back." He clapped his hands on his knees. "Maybe if I apologize in person, we can start… healing."

Colt sighed. "Punk, a lot has changed," he said. "If you want to go see them, I won't stop you… Hell, I'll even bring you there. But I'm warning you. It won't be the same."

"I know," Punk assured him. It had been three years; he would have been surprised if they hadn't.

Colt just shook his head. "No," he said. "You don't."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: Hey all! Sooooo sorry about the delay, I know everyone's been waiting for an update. I had some family in town and wasn't able to put anything up. But now I'm back! Here's chapter 3 and 4 will be up later today. Thanks for the support and enjoy!**

* * *

The first thing Punk did when he got back to Colt's apartment was take a shower- a long, searing, glorious shower. It had been three years since he'd been able to bathe like this. It felt almost foreign to not be in front of dozens of other people while using a thin, slimy bar of soap, using lukewarm water, and having only five minutes to wash himself. But he was really alone, without an audience, and he could take as much time as he wanted. He spent nearly 45 minutes beneath almost unbearably hot water, soaping himself again and again and again. His skin was pink and tender when he finally emerged, wrapping himself in a smooth, comfortable towel.

"I think I used up most of your body wash," he told Colt when he came out of the bathroom. "Sorry. We don't get pine fresh spring scent in prison."

Colt, who was sitting on the couch, merely waved him off. "Don't worry about it," he said casually. Then he laughed. "Shit, do you think you spent enough time in there? I think you were cooked a little."

"Nah, I'm only medium rare," Punk quipped with a sly grin. He ran a hand over his short, buzzed down hair. He'd had it cut two months after being locked up, after discovering his usual style was difficult to maintain in prison. Looking down at the towel around his waist, he suddenly realized that the only clothing he had was his suit. "Uh… do you think I can borrow some clothes? I'll swing by Walmart or something tomorrow, but for now I think I'll pass on sleeping in my dusty old suit. It's been sitting on a shelf for a few years."

"I can do you one better," Colt replied, pushing himself off the couch. He led the way to his spare bedroom, opening the door to allow his toweled friend inside. Punk nearly gasped at the sight of the room; it was no longer bare, with merely a bed and chest of drawers occupying it. Now stacked against the far wall was a sizeable mountain of cardboard boxes. They each bore the same mark, a hastily scribbled label across the side: Punk. He recognized the handwriting as well as he would his own- AJ's.

"Have these been here the whole time?" Punk whispered, staring in awe at the collection.

"Since a few months after you… left," Colt answered. "I showed up to the house one day and these were waiting in the living room. She told me to take them and that if I didn't, they were being donated to charity. They've been in here ever since." He crossed the room and moved a few stacks around. "I'm pretty sure the clothes are… here." He pushed several boxes into the middle of the room with his foot.

Punk was almost speechless. "Thanks, man," he muttered.

After finding boxers and a pair of basketball shorts (_basketball shorts_- what a wonder it was to be wearing such breathable material again), he spent the next couple of hours sifting through the boxes. He quickly discovered that AJ had indeed boxed up absolutely everything he owned- every shred of clothing, every piece of wrestling gear, every stack of comic books, every bit of memorabilia that had been displayed throughout the house. The last box he happened upon was the most painful; it contained their wedding album, her dress, and all the pictures from their walls and dressers. He spent a long time flipping through them, tracing his index finger along the glossy photos of his wife and son. He wished he could bring them to life, to have them here with him now- or better yet, to just go back a few years. To take his mistakes back.

It was well into the early hours of the morning when Punk returned to the living room, where he found Colt still on the couch. He wasn't surprised; the energetic wrestler could often be found awake this early, usually working on his podcast or Youtube show or other projects. But this morning, he was simply sitting in front of the television, watching some daytime talk show. Punk sank gratefully into the soft cushions, squinting to adjust to the TV's glare. The two were quiet for a moment, Colt zoning out and Punk enjoying a mindless show he'd never watched before, before Punk broke the silence.

"So," he said, "how long did it take for Phillip to forget about me?"

Colt hesitated for a moment. "Actually…" he began with a sigh. "He hasn't."

Punk's eyes widened. "What? How? It's been three years. He wasn't even one when I left. There's no way, Colt. He can't remember."

"He wouldn't," Colt agreed, "if I hadn't made sure he remembered." He fiddled with one of his belt loops for a moment, searching for the right words. "AJ boxed up your stuff when she was convinced you weren't going to answer her calls, letters, or visits. Around the same time, she made everyone- me, Kaitlyn, Zack, Kofi… everyone, swear never to talk about you, show pictures, or anything like that to Phillip if they wanted to keep seeing him. She even made your sisters and your parents promise… and they all agreed."

"Except for you," Punk pointed out.

He nodded. "I couldn't, dude," he said with a dismayed shake of his head. "I just couldn't. I told her I wouldn't say anything, but I couldn't let him forget. At first I just showed him pictures and talked about you a lot. When he was around 2 and a half, I started showing him videos of your old matches. He's seen your DVD, too."

Punk was in utter disbelief. One of the hardest pills for him to swallow had been the fact that after such a long time had passed, there was no way his son would remember him- he'd only been an infant when Punk was convicted, after all. To hear that Phillip had even a shred of his father left was almost too good to be true. "But AJ had to notice," he pressed. "He's a kid. You can't keep him from talking about what he sees. How could he not tell her?"

"For a long time she thought he just hadn't forgotten," Colt explained. "She was really too… depressed, I guess, to realize that he should have already. And by then, he was able to understand that he wasn't supposed to talk about Daddy. These days, before he leaves my place or before AJ comes home, I make him promise not to say anything. He still mentions it by accident every once and awhile, because he's a toddler, but whenever he does, she thinks he's talking about me. He's slipped and called me Daddy a few times before, so she buys it."

Punk was silent for awhile after that, taking everything in. If not for Colt's espionage, Phillip wouldn't remember his father… and AJ had gone to great lengths to do so. Removing every picture of him from the house, swearing her friends and family to secrecy… She really didn't want his memory to linger.

"What's she up to these days, anyway?" he asked finally. He knew hearing more stories would hurt, but he couldn't stop himself. He needed to know now, as these were questions he hadn't been able to bear to ask while he'd been in prison. "What has she been doing?"

"She doesn't have a boyfriend or anything, if that's what you're asking," Colt assured him, much to his relief. "She hasn't dated anyone, actually."

"Not even you?" Punk asked teasingly, but in truth he was only half-joking.

"Fuck no," Colt answered seriously. "Never again, dude. I learned my lesson."

"I was only kidding," Punk said lightly. "What about everything else? Like work?"

He sighed. "She got released after your trial," he said. "Didn't even fight it. She tried to go back to the indies about a year ago, but she didn't last long. She was still great at it, but she quit after a few matches. Said her heart wasn't into it anymore."

"Huh, really? Hm." Punk scratched his head. "Then what does she do these days?"

"Some charity work here and there. She opened up some animal rescues- one here and one in New Jersey. Mostly keeps out of the public eye, though. She travels some, too- a few months ago she took the kids to Puerto Rico to visit her dad's side of the family."

"Heh, I wonder how that went," Punk muttered with a harsh laugh. "Her dad always hated me. I wonder if they gave her an earful the way he always did." He flicked at the drawstring to his shorts for a moment, before something struck a chord with him. It was something Colt had said… but he couldn't quite put a finger on it. He frowned, replaying their conversation in his head. What was it?

And then it hit him.

"Did you say, 'she took the kids to Puerto Rico'?" Punk asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah," Colt replied with a nod. "I did. Why?" But then he realized it, too, and all of the color drained from his face. "Oh, fuck."

Punk stood up, his heart pounding. "Scott," he said slowly, "why did you say _kids_?"

"Oh, god damn it." Colt rose from the couch too, backing away. Punk never used his real name; when he did, it was a sign of trouble. "Look, it's… it's hard to explain… I was waiting for the right time to tell you… I didn't know how, so I didn't say anything… She made me swear not to tell, Phil. She made me swear on Phillip's life. She told me I couldn't see them or her if I told. I'm so sorry…"

"Them?" Punk cried, waving his arms frantically. "Who is _them, _Scott?"

"Phillip," Colt replied weakly. "And Sarah."

Punk grabbed the edge of the couch to steady himself. "S-Sarah?" he managed to squeak. His voice was breaking. "Who… Who's Sarah?"

Colt couldn't make eye contact with him anymore. "Your daughter."


	4. Chapter 4

After the shock wore off (which took longer than he would have liked to admit), Punk began hurriedly searching for Colt's car keys.

"Dude, what the fuck are you doing?" Colt cried, yanking Punk back before he could accidentally destroy the coffee table. "Calm down! What are you looking for?"

"Your keys," Punk answered, shrugging Colt off and going to search the kitchen. "I have to go over there. I have to see them. I have to… I have to meet her…" He finally spotted the key ring next the fridge, snatching it off of the counter.

"Whoa, whoa, back up," Colt said quickly, rushing to grab the keys from Punk's hands. "I don't even think your driver's license is valid anymore. And I don't know if hopping in the car and going over there is such a great idea…"

"Why?" Punk cried. "You said she doesn't have a boyfriend, right? Were you lying about that, too? I'm going over there, Colt! I love her, and even if she doesn't love me anymore, she can't keep my kids from me!" He dove for the keys again.

"Get a hold of yourself!" Colt snapped, stepping back to keep the keys out of reach. "She _can _keep your kids from you, and she _will _if you show up freaking out like this! You're divorced and you're a convicted, recently paroled felon, remember? You have zero rights. If she calls the cops on you, your ass goes straight back to prison. So sit the fuck down!"

At this, Punk's intensity was finally quelled. When Colt needed to seriously drive a point home, he could drop the funny man persona and do it… and he had. Punk retreated to the couch, the thought of going back to prison ever present in his mind. He wanted to see his kid… kids! But how?

"Look," Colt said calmly, sitting next to him, "I'll take you over there if you really want to. But you have to keep some things in mind, man. AJ doesn't want to see you. When you made it pretty damn well clear you wanted them to stay away, she took that as you not wanting your family anymore. She turned herself off and she's done everything she could to basically wipe your memory from her life. Phillip remembers you, but I'm pretty sure Sarah's never even heard your name. She won't recognize you at all. She's a lot like you in a lot of ways, but she's also like AJ. She can get quiet. She's real wary of strangers, especially guys. She's known Zack her whole life and after he came back from the overseas tour, it took her a few hours to warm up to him again. She's not gonna run over to you and hug you." He sighed; he wasn't used to such raw emotion in his life. It was tiring. "Honestly, I think the best idea is to ease into it. Let me talk to AJ and see if she'll at least let you see Phillip. But if you still want to go after everything I've said… I'll take you."

"I want to go," Punk replied earnestly. "Please. I have to see them."

* * *

Punk tried to keep himself calm as they drove over, but he was a flurry of nervous excitement and fear. He questioned Colt the whole time, unable to hold back. "How do I know she's mine?" he asked frantically. "You slept with her, too. What if she's not mine? Oh, fuck." He covered his eyes. "I- I can't do that again, Colt. It almost killed me the first time. I can't do it. I-"

"She's yours," Colt assured him. "Don't worry about that. AJ was still on birth control when we…" He swallowed hard. "Yeah. Anyway, she said her prescription ran out a few days later, but she was so stressed with the trial, and thinking about losing you, so she forgot to renew it. But she had Sarah's DNA tested against Phillip when she was born. She's all yours."

Punk sighed heavily, visibly relieved. She must have been conceived on one of he and AJ's last nights together, then. He knew he couldn't go through the paternity nightmare again. But that still left him with more questions. "Well, when was she born?" he asked. "Should be sometime around my birthday, since I left in January…"

Colt chuckled. "Actually, her original due date was your birthday," he answered. "But she came a month early. September 26th."

"So she's 2 years, 4 months old," Punk surmised. He inhaled deeply. "Fuck, wow… I missed everything…" He shook his head, falling silent for a moment. "But if she's 2 and a half, she's gotta be asking questions by now… She must go to preschool, or daycare sometimes… Hasn't she asked AJ where her dad is?"

"A few times," Colt admitted. "But not very often."

"Can't miss what you never had," Punk muttered with a nod. "Fuck. This is crazy." He ran a hand over his hair. "I have a daughter. And I've never seen her before. What does she look like? What does Phillip look like by now? Damn it…"

"You'll see soon enough," Colt assured him. "We're almost there."

* * *

"Phillip!" AJ called from the doorway. "Sarah! Come get your backpacks, guys! We have to get going. You're going to be late for school."

"But Mommy, we're having fun," Phillip whined, slowing on his heels. He'd been chasing Sarah around the backyard under his mother's watchful eye, for the past twenty minutes.

"I know, sweetie," she replied. "You can play after school, okay?"

"Park!" Sarah piped up, running up to the steps. "Take us to the park?" She stared up at AJ with bright, hopeful eyes, just like she always did.

AJ smiled back, reaching down to stroke her daughter's smooth cheek. "Of course, baby," she said. "Now both of you, go in and get your backpacks." She bent down to kiss each of them on the top of the head as they flew past her, running to grab their bags off the couch. She could hear their lunchboxes rattling around inside as her children returned to her, shouldering their backpacks eagerly.

Raising two children by herself had been more difficult than AJ had ever imagined. It wasn't the workload- while getting up in the middle of the night to tend to a new infant while soothing Phillip to sleep at the same time (he still had trouble getting to bed) was hard, she had help in the form of Colt, Kaitlyn, and her other friends. No, it was being alone that was the hardest. No matter how many of her friends she surrounded herself with, she still felt alone. The space next to her in bed was still empty each night, as was her ring finger. As was her heart.

She didn't want to think about Punk. About everything they'd lost, and everything she'd kept from him for the past three years. But she couldn't keep her mind from straying. She thought about him every day. And as much as she tried so badly to hate him…

_Stop, _she ordered herself. _Take your kids to school._

"I drawed a picture," Sarah announced happily as they made their way to the car. "I can bring it home today. It's a lion!"

"I'm sure it looks great," AJ said, opening the car door to put Sarah in her car seat. "We'll put it on the fridge when we get home." She put Sarah's backpack down next to her.

"Not on top of mine!" Phillip protested, alarmed, as he stood by his door.

She laughed. "No, sweetheart," she assured him. "There's plenty of space for everything. They can go right next to each other, okay?" She bent over the car seat to buckle Sarah in, straightening the straps as she listened to her daughter babble on about her preschool class. "There you go, angel. All strapped in. Now let's get your brother into his booster seat..."

"_Daddy_!"

The word made AJ's blood run cold. She ducked out of the car and whirled around to look out at the other side of the yard, lower lip quivering as she did so. Phillip's backpack lay discarded next to the car, and he was tearing across the yard at breakneck speed. "Daddy!" he cried again. "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" He kept running… straight into Punk's outstretched arms.

"Phillip, _no_!" AJ shrieked, running after him. She nearly tripped over the driveway, spotting Colt's car parked in front of the house. He was leaning against the trunk, hands plunged in his pockets, eyes trained on the ground beneath his feet. She was sure this was what having a heart attack felt like- it was thudding wildly against her chest, threatening to burst through her skin at any moment. "Phillip, come back here! That's… that's a stranger! You can't just go up to strangers!"

"This isn't a stranger, Mommy!" Phillip informed her. He was snuggled against buzzed cut, more hardened, more muscular man than the one she remembered. "It's Daddy!"

"How do you know him?" she whispered. She was shaking uncontrollably. "How do you know who he is?" She marched up to Colt. "This was you!"

Colt couldn't even meet her eyes. "I had to," he muttered. "I couldn't let him forget."

"How could you?" she cried. Her hand came whistling sharply across Colt's cheek. He reeled back, catching himself against the back bumper of his car.

"AJ, stop!" Punk demanded, picking Phillip up as he stood. "It's not his fault. I begged him to bring me. I would have come here anyway if he didn't."

"You give me back my son right now!" she snapped. "Give him to me!"

"He's my son, too," Punk replied indignantly.

"Not anymore!" She was crying by now, and wanted desperately to tear Phillip away, but she couldn't bear to. Doing so would involve touching Punk, and most likely upsetting her son. Both prospects terrified her. She reached out but her hands shrank back, shaking. "What… what are you doing here?" Her voice was weak, barely above a whisper.

"I came to see my family," he replied quietly. There were tears in his eyes, too, landing on Phillip's jacket as he clutched the boy against his chest. "And I want to meet my daughter."


	5. Chapter 5

Punk was in complete awe of his son. The last time he'd seen Phillip, he was but an infant, one who knew only a few words and had just taken his first steps. He'd been wailing for his father, a desperate, haunting cry that had followed Punk all his long days and nights in prison. But he wasn't that baby anymore. He was a strong, vibrant toddler now, lean and lanky the way Punk had been at that age. His dark hair was cut fairly short, but the tips still hung about in an unruly way, giving him the mischievous look his father always had. Looking at his son was like looking at pictures from his childhood.

Having Phillip again now, Punk didn't want to let him go.

"You can't," AJ was saying, shaking her head furiously. "You can't! She's… she's not yours! She's mine!"

"AJ, please," Punk begged. "I'm sorry. It was wrong for me to push you both away… I know that now. But how could you keep this from me? Why didn't you tell me we have a daughter, baby?" He reached out instinctively to stroke her cheek; her skin was just of soft as he remembered. She allowed his hand to linger for a moment, perhaps out of shock, or maybe comfort. But a short time later she reeled back, smacking his hand away.

"Stop!" she cried. "I'm not your baby! I don't have a husband anymore. You divorced me, remember?" She held up her left hand, wiggling her empty ring finger at him.

"Maybe I should take the kids inside," Colt suggested, stepping forward.

AJ's first instinct was to holler at him, too. She was furious with him; it was his doing, that Phillip remembered Punk. How could he lie to her like that, after promising her? But she knew she needed him right now, so she nodded. "Yeah," she muttered with a nod. She stepped back, folding her arms with an angry glance at Punk.

Punk reluctantly passed Phillip, who protested loudly, over to Colt. He flailed about but Colt kept him close, crossing the yard to get a very confused and upset Sarah out of the car. "Come on, sweetie," he muttered, unbuckling her with his free hand.

"Is that her?" Punk whispered as Colt led the kids into the house. "Is that… Sarah?"

She was small, smaller than he'd expected her to be at nearly 2 and a half. But that didn't surprise him too much; he supposed she took after AJ in that respect. She was thin-boned with fine, soft features like her mother, too, as well as having her wavy brown hair. But she was pale, like him. And he couldn't be sure from such a distance, but her eyes, that glint that shone at him from across the yard… they had to be his, too.

But before he could stare at her for much longer, AJ moved briskly into his line of vision. "She's not yours," she said coldly. "I gave birth to her and raised her all by myself. You weren't there!"

"You wouldn't let me!" he shot back. "You didn't even tell me you were pregnant!"

"Because you pushed me away!" she cried. "I was already losing you, but you wanted me and Phillip to be away forever! You broke our family apart even more than it already was. How can you expect me to just welcome you back, after abandoning us like that?"

He stepped back, abashed. "AJ, I'm sorry," he said pleadingly. "I don't know what else to say other than that. I was stupid, okay? It was stupid of me to think I was helping you guys by cutting myself out of your lives. I know I can't take back the years we've missed, and I know you…" He swallowed, trying to force the words out of his mouth. "I know you might hate me now, but I… I missed so much, birthdays, Christmases, anniversaries… I've missed three years of my son's life and the entirety of my daughter's so far. I can't miss any more. Please, just let me in. If you're not ready, then I'll… I'll stay away from you. But not the kids. Don't punish them while punishing me. Please."

"I don't know…" AJ muttered, her eyes skirting away from his. She didn't want him to see her tears, although they had already begun to bead down her cheeks. "She doesn't know you at all… She's never even seen a picture." Shaking her head, a thought occurred to her. She remembered, years ago, after he'd revealed his infidelity to her, when she threw him out of the house without letting him say goodbye to Phillip. After that, she promised herself she would never use her child as a weapon against him again. Wasn't that what she was doing now? With a soft sob, her shoulders began to shake.

"AJ?" Punk prompted quietly. "Are you… okay?"

She lifted her chin to look up at him, blinking away her tears. "Tomorrow," she decided. "I'll bring them to the park in the afternoon, okay? You can meet us there. But right now I need to take them to school. We're late." Without another word, she disappeared into the house. She was holding back the brick wall of emotion that was welling up inside her, and it was threatening to break.

* * *

"Well," Colt said as they drove, "that went well."

Punk laughed harshly. "You think?" he asked. "Shit, at least she's letting me see them. And she didn't completely murder you when she found out about what you've been telling Phillip."

"That was surprising," Colt agreed. "Although I'm sure I'll get hell for it later." He sighed. "You know, man, you really need to find a way to get her back. I've been playing substitute husband for three years, which nets me plenty of responsibility and absolutely none of the wonderful benefits."

"And you have no idea how grateful I am for that," Punk assured him.

"Grateful enough to forgive me for not telling you about your daughter?" Colt asked hopefully.

He considered this for a moment. "We'll see." He turned to look out the window, drinking in the Chicago neighborhoods he'd missed so much. But it wasn't the skyline he was thinking about- it was AJ, Phillip… and Sarah. He couldn't stop thinking about Sarah. Her tiny little hands, her wavy hair that reached just below her shoulders, her button nose that was exactly like her mother's…

She was beautiful.

* * *

It took every bit of willpower AJ had left to keep herself together as she dropped her children off at their preschool. Because they were late, she had to sign them in before escorting both of them to their respective classrooms. Sarah, who had not been privy to the argument in the yard (as well as never having seen Punk before), went off peacefully, but Phillip put up a fight. He broke down in a fit of tears in the hallway, begging to be taken back to his father.

"Sweetie, please," AJ begged him, pulling him up off the floor. His sneakers scuffed against the tile. "You have to go to into your room now. Your class is waiting for you."

"I want to see Daddy!" he cried, letting his legs go limp. He crashed back to the ground.

"You'll see him tomorrow after school," she told him. "I promise."

"No, now!" he demanded. "Why did you make him leave?"

Her heart broke for him as she pulled him up again, cradling her firstborn in her arms. "Daddy… Daddy had some things to take care of," she whispered to him. "But he'll be back."

"You made him go," he sniffled. "I hate you." He jerked out of his mother's embrace, grabbing his backpack. He ran into his classroom without looking back, and slammed the door behind him.

AJ barely made it back to her car before the bubble of pain and anguish inside her burst. She sobbed against the steering wheel, smacking her palms on the dashboard in frustration. When she woke up this morning, her life made sense. It was a stoic, sometimes painful life, spent without a companion and with two fatherless children, but it was something she was used to. But now, everything had come crashing down around her- including the walls she'd put up to keep Punk out of her heart. She could still smell the familiar scent of his skin, still hear the desperation in his voice, still see the fear in his eyes. She could still feel the venom with which Phillip had spat words at her that he didn't understand, and they hurt more than anything.

"What do I do?" she whispered helplessly at the silence around her. "What the hell do I do?"


	6. Chapter 6

AJ spent the rest of her day curled up on the couch, hugging her knees against her chest. She'd had plenty of errands planned that day- grocery shopping, the post office to send some birthday presents to an overseas relatives, the animal shelter to check on how things were running… But all of that went straight out the window when Punk walked back into her life.

In the end, she knew she only had herself to blame for reacting so harshly, and for being so surprised. Colt had told her a week ago that Punk was to be released on parole. She'd had time to prepare for this. She had to have known he would show up sooner or later… She had only hoped it wouldn't be so soon. But now he was back, and she had no choice but to deal with everything she'd been holding back since the day he was pulled away from her.

How was she to react? Nothing made sense to her anymore. At first, it had been Punk to push his family away. He rejected all calls, returned all letters, refused all visits. His abandonment had broken her so thoroughly, and after discovering her pregnancy, she stopped trying to contact him. But several months after Sarah's birth, he started calling. She received letters, too- dozens of them. She didn't open a single one. She let the phone ring off the hook, never answering when the caller ID displayed the number from the New Jersey State Prison.

Seeing him brought back everything she never wanted to feel again. She wanted to call Kaitlyn and cry about it, but she couldn't even will herself to pick up the phone. Even if she could, she already knew what her best friend would say- that it was clear she was still in love with her ex-husband, and she didn't want to hear that. Because every time she moved her hand, she felt her empty ring finger quiver and burn with a vengeance.

* * *

Picking up the kids that day was a nightmare. When AJ arrived at the preschool, the other parents were in a frenzy. At first, she was too distracted to notice. But as she waited patiently for 2 PM to roll around, she started picking up on the low whispers around her.

"That's her, right?" a woman somewhere behind muttered. "That's April Brooks?"

"That's her, all right," another mom replied, her voice hushed as well. "You would think she would have changed her name back after they divorced…"

A second group was murmuring somewhere behind her. "That Punk guy was in prison for three years," said a man. AJ recognized this voice- it was the father of one of the boys in Sarah's class. "But Sarah's not even 2 and a half yet. So how could she be his?"

"Maybe she was born a little early," his wife suggested.

Her husband snickered. "Or she was fucking around while he was locked up, and that's why they split."

"I just hope he never shows up here to pick them up," the wife said nervously. "I don't want a crazy ex-con around my children."

AJ's hand flew to her mouth to stifle a gasp, to prevent an outburst. She was already flooded with anger, on top of the lingering pain from earlier in the day. _You sons of bitches, _she thought angrily, before she could stop herself. _How dare you talk about my husband like that!_

But he wasn't her husband. Not anymore.

She leaned back against the wall to support herself. Punk had only been out a day; how did everyone know? Had the media picked up on his release already? Was it in the papers, on the news, on the internet? She hadn't checked. She avoided the media, most days. But it had to be out. And now everyone knew, and everyone was talking…

"Can we go see Daddy now?" Phillip asked, tugging at her pant leg.

Her son's appearance shook AJ out of her trance. "No, baby," she replied. "I told you. Tomorrow."

"Why not today?" Phillip pleaded. "I wanna see him!"

"Tomorrow!" she snapped, a little louder than she meant to. The waiting parents and children around them turned their attention towards her, mouths agape. She stood in awkward silence for a moment before taking Phillip by the hand, leading him away. "Come on. Let's go get your sister."

* * *

Punk didn't sleep much that night, and this time, it wasn't out of discomfort. This time, he was too excited to sleep. He'd thought that being on a luxuriously soft mattress would lull him right to bed, but he still lay awake, staring restlessly at the ceiling. He was unable to quiet his mind, which was wide awake and vibrant with hopes and fears about what lay ahead.

What was he going to say to Sarah? She had no idea who her father was and, according to Colt, was wary of strangers. Phillip, it seemed, was having no problem fitting Punk right back into his heart, as though he'd never been gone. Would he be able to help convince his little sister that this big, tattooed man was one who could be trusted? Punk didn't know. He could only hope she would accept him.

After showering and getting dressed in the morning, Punk entered the kitchen to find Colt eating eggs. There was an untouched plate next to him. "Eat up, champ," he said. "Big day today."

Punk pulled up a chair gratefully and dug in. But after only a few bites, he gagged. "Fuck, this tastes all wrong," he muttered, taking a long sip out of the glass of water next to him.

"Why?" Colt asked, taking another bite of his own helping. "I thought I was a halfway decent cook."

"You are," Punk assured him. "That's not the problem. It's just so… solid." He poked at the meal listlessly with his fork, moving it around his plate.

Colt understood now. After so many runny, processed, disgusting meals, Punk wasn't used to what real food tasted like anymore. "You'll ease back into it," he said.

Punk spent the next several hours on Colt's computer, catching up on some of the things he'd missed. Although originally he didn't want to, the first place he went was straight to . He read every update, from the day of his conviction onward. John Cena was the champion at the moment- how predictable. Zack had won and lost the Intercontinental Championship a few times, Kofi was the current United States Champion, and Kaitlyn would be challenging Eve for the Diva's championship next week.

He noticed that his bio page had been moved to the alumni section, as well as AJ's. There was no mention of his arrest, or her release. "Things have changed," he muttered.

* * *

"Stop doing that," Colt snapped, flicking Punk's rapidly bouncing knee. "You're shaking the car."

"I can't help it!" Punk protested. "I'm nervous as hell, man. I'm about to meet my daughter for the first time. You have no idea what that feels like."

"Well, actually, I do," Colt pointed out. "I was there when she was born."

"Way to rub it in," Punk growled, but he was too excited for his mood to be set off. He leaned out the window again, scanning the expanse of the park once more. "Where are they? It's almost 2:30. Fuck. Maybe they're not coming…" He glanced down at the floor of the car dejectedly.

"Relax, motherfucker!" Colt advised, flicking his knee again. "The kids get out at 2 and it usually takes her a few minutes to get them out of the school and to the car. She's gonna be here. She would have called me if she was gonna bail. So cool it, all right?"

Punk didn't answer. He just leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes.

A few minutes later, Colt tapped his shoulder. "Look," he said, unbuckling his seat belt and opening his door. "They're here." He pointed to the end of the parking lot, where AJ was walking with a child on either side of her. Punk immediately sprang out of the car, rising so fast he banged his shin on the door.

"Hey, slow down!" Colt said. "Don't forget the presents."

Punk nodded, grabbing the small bags out of the back seat of the car. Gritting his teeth against the pain in his leg, he forced himself to slow down as he crossed the parking lot to reach the grassy field and playground just beyond.

AJ spotted him as he drew nearer and stopped, drawing the kids to a halt. Punk himself stopped at the edge of the parking lot, toeing the grass uncertainly. He now stood but a few yards from his family, and with all his built up excitement before, he didn't know how to react now. He swallowed hard, trying to sort out the myriad of feelings that had arisen in him.

As he stared at AJ, he was taken aback; seeing her still took his breath away. She looked just as she always did- the long, silky hair, the precious, doe brown eyes, the golden tan skin… She wore a non-descript Superman T-shirt, fitted jeans, and a partially zipped black jacket. Even at 29, she still looked like his sweet princess, the girl who desperately needed his protection.

Phillip, predictably, was the first one to break the silence. "Daddy!" he cried, dropping AJ's hand. He ran to his father, who took one knee to embrace him. Phillip threw his tiny arms around his neck, hanging on like a magnet. "I missed you, Daddy. Mommy didn't let me see you yesterday. I was scared!"

"Don't be scared," Punk said encouragingly. "I'm here now."

"When are you coming home?" his son asked innocently, pulling back to look at him.

"Oh, buddy," he whispered, trying to choke back tears. "I… I don't know right now."

"That's what Uncle Colt says," Phillip muttered. "I ask him when you're coming home and he just says, 'I don't know'. I want to know, Daddy! Why won't you come home?"

Punk bit his lip. "I just don't know right now," he replied quietly. He shook his head; he hadn't expected this meeting to be so difficult. "Hey! I got you a present."

At this, Phillip immediately lit up. "What is it?" he asked eagerly.

Grinning, Punk handed him a blue bag. He watched as the excited boy drew forth a Batman action figure, in his most recent incarnation. "Wow!" Phillip exclaimed. "I don't have this one!" His smile was ear to ear as he threw himself at Punk again. "Thanks, Daddy!"

"I… also have a present for Sarah," Punk announced, raising his head to look over Phillip's shoulder. The timid little girl was clinging to one of AJ's legs, gazing at him warily with mossy green eyes.

His eyes.

"Come on, Sarah!" Phillip said encouragingly, waving her forward. "This is Daddy. Don't you want to say hi to him? He's real nice, promise!"

Sarah merely shook her head, burying her face in AJ's jeans. Phillip put his new toy down and walked over to them, gently dislodging Sarah's hands from the denim. "No!" she whined as he pulled her. She shook her head wildly, her pigtails flopping about. "I don't wanna! Mommy!"

"Please?" Phillip begged. "He has a present! Come on!" Before she could protest any further, he dragged his sister over to Punk, presenting her in front of him as though she were a new puppy. "This is Sarah," he announced. "She's my sister. She's two."

"Hi, Sarah," Punk said sweetly, smiling broadly. He hoped desperately that the intense nerves he was feeling. "I'm… I'm your…" He was suddenly at a loss for what to say. Sarah had never had a dad in her life. He wasn't even sure if she had a clear concept of what a father was. What was he to call himself?

"Daddy," Phillip filled in helpfully. "This is Daddy."

"I don't have a daddy," Sarah muttered uncertainly.

Her words, although spoken innocently and without malice, were like a spear to his heart. Waves of regret rolled through him, and he instantly hated himself for not being present in her life all this time. Swallowing hard, he reached behind him for the red bag. The present had quickly broken the ice with Phillip; perhaps it would do the same with Sarah. "I got you something," he said, holding it out to her. Glancing back at her mother for approval, Sarah's hand slowly reached out to take the bag from Punk. She reached inside, her eyes widening as she pulled out a Batgirl figure. It matched her brother's.

"What do you say?" AJ prompted, speaking for the first time during their meeting.

"Thank you," Sarah whispered automatically. She looked up at him, a small smile creeping slowly across her face. "I like it."

Punk smiled. "I'm glad," he replied. "I got it just for you."

"Let's open them!" Phillip suggested. As he and Sarah sat on the grass a few feet away and tore at the packaging, AJ finally crossed over to stand next to him.

"How did you know?" she asked.

Punk frowned, rising from his crouched position on the ground. "What do you mean?"

"The toy," she explained, folding her arms. "How did you know what to get her? How did you know she wouldn't like… I don't know, a Barbie doll or something?"

"Well, first of all, she's being raised by you," Punk answered with a sly grin. "And second… I may have had help." He nodded over to Colt, who was still sitting in the car. They were silent for a few moments, watching their children explore their new action figures. It was clear neither knew what to say.

"So what happens now?" AJ asked finally, looking up at him. It was a question that both of them had posed to each other at equally relevant times.

"I'm not sure," Punk admitted. "Maybe we can… start over?" He slid his hand over to hers, lightly locking his pinky finger with hers. She allowed it to linger for a moment before pulling away, gently rubbing the spot he had touched.

"I don't know about that," she muttered back. She looked down at the winter dead grass beneath her feet, kicking at a dirt clot. She didn't know anything anymore.


	7. Chapter 7

Punk was walking on air for the rest of the afternoon. Despite his small hiccup with AJ, the whole meeting was well worth it. He spent the next few hours on the playground with the kids, helping them off the slide and the monkey bars. By the end of the afternoon, Sarah was even letting him push her on the swing. All the while AJ watched from a nearby bench, her eyes never leaving her children and their father as they played.

Watching them run circles around the playground, hearing their contagious laughter as Punk spun them around… AJ didn't know how to feel. She had always known Punk was great with children- she never doubted his ability to reconnect with Phillip (at least after Colt's scheme to keep Punk's memory alive), but it did surprise her how quickly Sarah was taking to him. Her daughter had never reacted so favorably to strangers before. What was it about Punk that charmed her so? Did she sense, somehow, that he was her father? AJ wasn't sure… but what she did know was that watching them all together gave her a sense of peace she hadn't felt in years.

All too soon, the sun began to dip beyond the horizon. "Phillip!" AJ called, rising from her bench. She zipped up her jacket, shivering- the wind had started to pick up, too. It was still the end of January, after all, and Chicago winters were no joke. "Sarah! It's time to go home!"

Phillip ran over, strands of hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. "Can Daddy come with us?" he asked hopefully, inhaling heavily to catch his breath.

AJ shook her head sadly. "No, baby," she replied quietly. "Daddy has to go now."

"But why?" Sarah asked, catching up with her brother. It was her favorite question to ask- it had been Phillip's at her age, too. "I want a story!"

The earnestness in her voice was like a vice around AJ's throat. She didn't want to deny her children the father they so desperately wanted and needed, but she just wasn't ready. Not yet. "Not tonight, sweetheart. But you'll see him tomorrow," she added.

By now, Punk had reached them. "Really?" he asked.

AJ nodded. "You should see them again," she said. "Why don't you… come by the house after school?"

An unabashed, genuine smile appeared on his face. "I think I will," he replied. He crouched down to pull Phillip into his arms, pressing a kiss to his sweaty mop of hair. "I'll see you tomorrow, kiddo." He turned to Sarah. "And I'll see you, too?"

Sarah nodded slowly. "Hug?" she squeaked.

"What's that?" Punk asked, leaning in closer to hear her tiny voice.

"H-hug," Sarah repeated.

"Of course," he whispered back, trying to keep his voice from breaking. This was what he had been waiting for. He tucked her gently into his embrace, his cold skin warming as her little arms locked around his neck. He rubbed her back slowly, silently wishing this would last forever. But just a short moment later Sarah pulled back, smiling giddily at him as she ran back to AJ.

Punk slowly rose to his feet, swallowing hard to hold back the tears. "So I'll see you tomorrow," he said finally, looking at AJ.

She nodded to him. "Tomorrow," she agreed. She herded the kids back to the car, nodding in reply to Phillip's incessant chattering as she buckled Sarah in and helped Phillip into his booster seat. As she got into the front to turn the car on, she caught a flash of her face in the rearview mirror.

She was smiling.

* * *

"I can't believe it's going so well," Punk exclaimed. "She hugged me, dude! And I don't think AJ hates me anymore! I wouldn't say she likes me just yet, but she doesn't hate me. I think. Fuck. I don't know."

Colt just smiled. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered. He'd been listening to Punk's rambling the whole ride over, and while it didn't bother him, there wasn't much he could say. So he nodded and listened as he drove to the Brooks house. He had to admit, it felt a little odd ferrying Punk over to the house he'd owned since before he even met AJ. Shaking his head quickly, he pulled into the driveway. "Look, I've gotta go. I'm heading over to Steel Dominion. Ace wants my help teaching a group of new guys. So you're gonna be on your own today."

Punk's eyes widened with alarm. "But… what if I…"

"Get along," Colt ordered. "You're a big boy. Now get the fuck out of my car."

Punk almost didn't remember to breathe as he walked up the driveway. How long had it been since he'd last been inside this house? Too long. He still had his keys, and they hung off a chain from one of his belt loops, but he was hesitant to use them. This wasn't his house anymore. His name wasn't even on the deed- he'd signed it over to AJ two years ago, along with virtually all of his assets. Even his car was hers alone. It wasn't in the driveway; only hers was. He wondered briefly if it was in the garage. It was a nonsensical thought, but it kept his mind off his nerves as he ascended the steps to the front door.

Before he could even knock, the door flew open. "Daddy!" Phillip exclaimed happily, attaching himself to one of his father's legs. "I thought you weren't gonna see me today!"

Punk smiled and hoisted him up. "Of course I was gonna see you today," he said. "You think I'd miss this? No way." He stepped tentatively inside the house. "Where's your mother? You didn't answer the door by yourself, did you? You shouldn't do that!"

"At school they said it was okay to answer the door for Mommy or Daddy," Phillip replied defensively.

He wasn't prepared for that response. He just set Phillip down, still smiling. "That's… that's right," he said finally. "Only for Mommy or Daddy." He glanced around at the front room; from what he could see, little about the house had changed in his absence. There were some framed photos missing- he knew they were the ones that had been included in the boxes in Colt's spare room. They had been replaced by different pictures, many including Sarah. On the wall, he spotted one of what he could only guess was her as a baby. He bit his lip, suddenly angry at himself for not being in that photo.

"I need to talk to you," came AJ's voice abruptly from beside him. "Phillip, go play with your sister in the living room." She held up her hand before he could even open his mouth to protest. Looking down, he scurried off into the other room.

He turned to face her. "Sure," he said, following her into the kitchen. "What's going on?" He could tell something was wrong- her arms were folded, her cheeks were streaked, and her eyes were red- she had been crying recently.

"Something happened when I picked up the kids at school today."

* * *

_AJ was zipping up Sarah's backpack in her classroom when she felt a rough tap on her shoulder. "Excuse me," said a woman brusquely. "I need to speak with you, please."_

_AJ turned, shouldering the backpack. "Of course," she replied. She recognized the woman easily- she was the mother of one of Sarah's classmates. "How are you, Wendy?"_

_"Your husband is that professional wrestler, right?" Wendy asked. "The one who went to prison for attempted murder?"_

_"Ex-husband," AJ corrected coolly, immediately stiffening. Before the other day, she'd never heard anyone talking about Punk, nor had anyone spoken of him to her. She knew people around her knew- this was Chicago. Punk was a local celebrity. The local news had been abuzz with stories about him all throughout his trial. But no one had ever been brave enough to talk to her about it. She liked it that way._

_"But he's been released," Wendy pressed. "And you and your kids were seen with him yesterday!" She thrust her phone in front of AJ, which had a TMZ article displayed on the screen. There was a slightly grainy photo, taken from afar, of Punk crouched down, speaking to the kids. AJ herself stood a few feet away, arms folded as she watched them._

_Seeing the photo made AJ's blood run cold. People were watching them? Already? "What are you getting at?" she asked through gritted teeth._

_"Well, he's a convicted felon!" Wendy explained, as though this should have been obvious to her. "What if he comes to pick up your kids one day? You may feel comfortable letting him around your children, but I don't want him around mine!"_

_"I agree," another mother piped up from behind them. "He shouldn't be here."_

_"He's their father!" AJ snapped, exasperated. "He's not going to hurt them or any other child. He wouldn't hurt anyone!"_

_"Then why did he go to prison?" a third mother asked. "Innocent men don't go to prison! They sent him away for almost killing a man in front of millions of people!"_

_"You don't understand!" AJ protested. "You have no idea what happened!"_

_"I understand where you're coming from, honey," said a fourth, "but you have to see it from our point of view, too. We just don't want a potentially dangerous man around our babies, that's all."_

_"What is this, a group effort?" AJ cried. "Are you all insane? You know nothing about him, and you know nothing about my family!" She crossed the room to grab Sarah, who was still engrossed in the pretend kitchen with a few other kids. "Come on, baby. We're going to get your brother so we can get the hell out of this intolerant school."_

* * *

Punk was speechless at the end of her story. He leaned back against the counter, biting his lip. "I… don't know what to say," he muttered finally, in an attempt to break the silence. "What are you trying to tell me? Do you not want me to come around anymore?" He was suddenly stricken with fear- what if she was going to cut him off from the kid?

"No, no, that's not what I'm saying," AJ snapped. "I just… I…" She sighed, massaging her temples. "Fuck. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do. I didn't think I would ever see you again. And then a few days ago you just come barging back into our lives, and what did you think was going to happen? I haven't slept well since Colt told me you were getting out."

"I haven't slept well in three years," Punk said quietly. "Every night without you next to me was a nightmare." He pushed himself off the counter, stepping closer to her.

"Don't say that!" she whispered fiercely, fighting back tears. "What… what am I supposed to say to that, Punk? What am I supposed to do? You tell me."

"Let me in," he whispered back, reaching up to touch her cheek. She instinctively recoiled but he tried again, and this time she allowed his hand to linger. "Let me prove I'm worth you."


	8. Chapter 8

AJ separated from Punk awkwardly after their brief moment. As much as she secretly enjoyed the soft touch of his palm to her cheek, it also brought her a renewed pain. After three years of silence between them, she wasn't ready for this. Not yet. "I-I'm sorry," she whispered, covering his hand with hers. "I can't… I can't do this right now." She slowly removed his hand, dropping it to his side before disappearing up the stairs.

"Fuck," Punk muttered. "Did I fuck it up already?" Had he moved too fast for her? What if his advance made her so uncomfortable that she didn't want him around the kids anymore? He would never see them again! They would grow up without him! No, she couldn't possibly take them away from him… Not when he was only just getting to know them…

_Calm the fuck down, _he ordered himself. _That's not going to happen. She's just a little shaken up._

He went into the living room, where he spent the rest of the afternoon playing and watching cartoons with the kids. It was the most relaxing day he'd experienced since before his sentencing hearing, when he, AJ, Phillip, and Colt toured Central Park. Phillip chattered to him nonstop, trying to fill him in on everything his father missed- that he could remember- and Sarah warmed up to him more and more as time passed. Punk enjoyed every second of it, wishing silently that he could make this time with his children last forever. It did feel a little awkward, however, sitting in a house he furnished and paid for and knowing this wasn't his home.

By the early evening, AJ still hadn't come back downstairs, and the kids were getting hungry. So he made them spaghetti, again feeling strange in the kitchen that was no longer his. But no matter how out of place he felt, everything was just as he left it- the plates were in the same cabinet, the silverware in the same drawer. He reached for everything he need automatically, finding everything right in its place. He watched the kids eat with a smile; he didn't eat any himself, not feeling comfortable taking anything from AJ's kitchen for himself.

After dinner, he got the kids ready for bed. Sarah was hesitant, at first, to allow him to bathe her, and only hopped in the tub after Phillip assured her it was okay. Punk then put them in their pajamas, and read them three (at Phillip's insistence) stories before they finally drifted off to sleep. This was where he noticed the only difference in the house- the kids' rooms. Phillip's no longer had the crib and changing table Punk remembered constructing with a pregnant AJ. It had updated furniture now, along with a toddler bed. Sarah's room was formerly his unused office. He saw it as he carried her sleeping form to her bed. The walls were purple, the room decorated with a flowery lavender theme. He spent a little longer tucking Sarah in, as this was a privilege he'd never had before. The whole experience for him, feeding his kids and putting them to bed, was surreal; was this really happening? The tiny little girl he'd just covered with a fluffy blanket was proof it was.

He was intent on walking back to Colt's as he went down the stairs. It was a cool, clear night; it was the perfect weather, and he didn't want to disturb Colt anymore than he already had. But as he reached the living room, he saw AJ curled up on the couch.

"Hey," he said quietly. He suddenly felt stupid; _hey _was all he could come up with? He shook his head.

"Hey," she replied. "Are they… asleep?"

Punk nodded. "Out like lights," he answered. Even from across the room, he could tell her eyes were red. She'd been crying. All afternoon, he wondered?

She stood up. "So I guess you're leaving now," she said. "I'd offer to drive you, but…" She gestured vaguely to the ceiling.

"Right," he said, nodding again. "Kids."

"Yeah," she confirmed. "Kids."

_Fuck, _he thought. _Have things really become so awkward between us? I really hope I didn't fuck this up… _"So… can I see them tomorrow?" he asked hopefully.

"Of course! Same time, after school… if you can make it."

"Yeah, yeah, I can make it," he said quickly. _It's not like I have anything else to do, anyway… _"So I'll see you tomorrow, then." He made his way to the door.

"Punk, wait!" she called, hurrying over to him. "Look, I… I've been thinking about what you said."

He turned around to face her. "Yeah?"

"And…" She sighed, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry about the way I reacted. I shouldn't have just run off like that. But… I meant what I said. It's been too long. I'm not ready yet."

He looked down dejectedly. "Okay," he muttered." He reached for the door.

"But…" she stared. He turned on his heel to glance back at her, surprised to find her smiling. "That doesn't mean I won't be someday."

Punk left his old house grinning ear to ear. But that night, he had his first post-prison nightmare.

* * *

_He's sitting in his cell with his cellmate, Sam. Sam doesn't like him- he's in here for drugs, after all. Meth. He hasn't been here long, either, and he's thirsting for his high the way they all do. An addict and the straight edge superstar sharing space? This can't be good. And it isn't. He put in for transfer weeks ago, the day he got here. But the guards around here are slow to move. They don't care if you don't get along with your cellmate. This prison is overcrowded as it is. They don't have the space to be shuffling people around._

_And that's bad news for Punk. Things are getting more and more tense by the day. They've been in arguments, shoving matches, thrown some punches… It gets broken up, always, but it just leaves Sam with more resentment than before. Sam hates staring at his straight edge tattoos, all day every day. It makes him angry, sitting here with this smug little bastard who thinks he's better than everyone else. He's seen wrestling. Best in the world? He'll show that fucking Punk 'best in the world'…_

_The final straw comes when Punk's working out. He has the top half of his jumpsuit off because he's sweating, doing sit-ups. Every time his stomach rises, Sam sees those two damn words staring straight back at him. Well, they'll be gone soon. He lunges at Punk with a homemade shank, a filed down toothbrush. Punk sees the attack coming and jumps back, but this cell is small and there's nowhere to go. He yells for a guard, but they're not as fast as the weapon. One of Sam's frantic swipes catches him, and his stomach turns bright red…_

* * *

"Stop!" Punk cried as he bolted upright. "No! Get the fuck off me!"He sent his alleged attacker flying backward with a rough shove. His heart was pounding, his lungs were burning, sweat pouring down his forehead… He would fight this time. He wouldn't go down…

"Whoa! Whoa! Calm down, dude!"

Punk frowned, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "Zack?" he choked out. "What… what the fuck are you doing here?"

"I'm here to visit you, jerk!" Zack snapped. "You weren't up yet, so I was in the kitchen with Colt, and we heard you screaming. Were you having a nightmare or something? Way to greet one of your best buddies as a free man, bro."

"I'm sorry," Punk breathed. "I'm sorry. I just… I… I dreamed… Prison…"

Zack waved him off, stepping forward so Colt could come in, too. "Don't worry about it, man. I was kidding. Come here and give me a fist bump or something."

Ten minutes later, Punk was eating cereal at the kitchen table with Zack and Colt. "I'm sorry about earlier," he said between spoonfuls. "I've never had a nightmare that real before. It felt like I was back."

"Don't worry about it," Zack repeated.

"Try not to attack us anymore, though," Colt added. "I don't need any more broken furniture."

"I'll keep that in mind," Punk assured him. "So why didn't you visit me in my last year inside? I know your schedule makes it hard, but you always came to see me whenever you were back in town. All I got were letters after your last visit. Why did you stop suddenly?"

Zack sighed. "I didn't want to," he answered. "But after my last time, someone who was apparently a wrestling fan took a picture of me leaving the prison. It exploded all over the internet. I got called before the board and Hunter told me I couldn't be seen visiting you, that it was bad for the company image."

At this, Punk actually laughed. "Fuck, there's really still a shit storm about me?" he asked.

"Not anymore," Zack replied. "But there was for a long time. It was so weird at work… It wasn't like the last time the company distanced from someone. They still mention you sometimes, and your shirts and DVD pop back up in the 'retro' section of the shop every once and awhile. But it's like a sin to talk about your conviction or anything that happened with Daniel."

"Damn," Punk muttered. "Well, at least I wasn't erased from history." He paused, taking another bite of his cereal. "So, why didn't you tell me about my daughter?"

Colt sighed heavily, dodging Zack's wide-eyed glance. "Fuck, he knows?" Zack said frantically. "Who told him? Why didn't you tell me? Did AJ flip? Make sure she knows it wasn't me!"

"Chill, broski," Colt said. "It was me. I let it slip by accident. There was a little problem at first, but AJ's letting him see them now… everything's fine. Relax."

"Phew," Zack muttered. He bit his lip for a moment. "I wanted to, man. I really did. We all did! But she made us promise. I'm sure Colt told you… If we blabbed, she would have cut us off from them."

Punk nodded. "I know, he did tell me… It's just still a little hard for me to believe sometimes. Did she really have no intention of ever letting me see Phillip, or telling me about Sarah?"

"I don't think she was thinking that far ahead," Colt admitted.

"Me neither," Zack added. "You would have found out eventually- she has your last name, and AJ put you on the birth certificate. It would have shown up on some official paperwork somewhere. I think she was just trying to forget."

Punk could accept that- for now. He would get the rest of the story out of her later, if there was any more to it. He went back to his breakfast for a moment, enjoying the fresh Cheerios as opposed to the stale Corn Flakes he was used to.

"So," Zack said finally, "what are you gonna do now?"

"Whatever I can do," Punk answered. "Start getting my life back together."


	9. Chapter 9

Punk spent the next few weeks getting his life back in order. First, he went to the DMV to get a new driver's license. Because it had been so long, he had to take the driving test again. It made him feel like a teenager again, sitting next to an aging instructor as he drove a student car around the suburbs of Chicago. But he passed with flying colors, and after waiting in line for hours, he walked out with a brand new ID. The new picture was a jarring contrast to the old one- buzzed short hair and dark circles under his eyes, compared to the full, smirking face and longer hair he used to sport.

Next, he took a look at his bank account. His previous thoughts about his financial situation had been correct- he had only $4,000 to his name, having signed the rest away to AJ in the divorce. It was barely enough to buy a used car. What would he live on? He couldn't live in Colt's spare room forever, leeching off his best friend's good will. He didn't go to college; after graduating high school, he worked at a gas station and other mindless day jobs to support himself during his early days of his career. Wrestling was all he had. WWE didn't seem like an option. Would he have to go back to the indy scene?

In the end, Punk made a call to the current booker of Ring of Honor. He refused to wrestle- he knew him being on the card would steal the spotlight from the young men who were on the ROH roster. He didn't want to be part of the injustice he worked so hard to overcome. So he showed up only for autograph signings and to help train some of the younger boys, taking the bus or train to Philadelphia for the weekly ROH tapings, and would fulfill his obligations. He collected $300 per appearance; he wouldn't let them pay him anything more.

At the same time, Punk fell into a predictable pattern with AJ and the kids. He would come to the house almost every day around the same time. After spending the afternoon with the kids he would make them dinner, bathe them, and put them to bed. At first, AJ mostly left them alone, only occasionally poking her head into the room to check them. But as the days passed, she was spending more and more time with them, and before long she was spending whole days with Punk and their children. It was so easy, falling back into familiarity with him. She found herself laughing at his jokes, jabbing his arm lightly, grinning whenever he entered the room. When he was released from prison, she'd promised herself this wouldn't happen… But she had no control over it. She knew she still loved him, and she was powerless to stop it.

"What do you want to do for Phillip's birthday?" she asked him one night as they were doing the dishes. The kids were already in bed, and all that was left was the aftermath of dinner. That was another thing they both had noticed- Punk was stretching out his visits more and more, often not leaving the house until well after the kids fell asleep.

Punk stopped for a moment, pausing as he placed a glass in the dishwasher. "You… want me to be there?" he asked uncertainly.

"Of course," AJ replied with a laugh. "You've been here almost every night, haven't you? Why wouldn't I want you to be there for our son's birthday?"

_Our son_. It was the first time she'd referred to one of the kids as _theirs_. It sent hope fluttering through him. Did this mean she wanted their family back after all? Nodding, he tried to get his bearings back. "Uh, okay," he said. "Well… I don't know. I've never planned a kid's birthday party before. What have you done the past few years?"

"We usually just have a little get together here at the house," she answered, putting in the last plate before closing the dishwasher. "Friends, some family, Phillip's classmates…" She looked down suddenly. "But since you'll be there, my parents probably won't want to come… And with what happened at the kids' school, his friends' mothers won't want them to be there, either…"

Punk instantly hated himself. His presence in their lives alone was already disrupting things. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "AJ, if you don't want me to be there, I can just spend time with Phillip on another day." The thought of missing another birthday broke his heart, but he would do it for her if he had to.

"No, you're not missing three birthdays in a row," she said firmly, as though she'd read his mind. "You're going to be here. We'll have it right here at the house, just like always. Colt will come, and Zack, and Kaitlyn, and Kofi, and your sisters… and you. And if my parents don't like that, well, they can just go fuck themselves." She folded her arms, smiling.

Punk grinned back at her. He didn't know where this assertiveness in AJ had come from, but he liked it. She wasn't letting people walk all over to her anymore; she was standing up to them. She'd learned a lot in his absence. "So Saturday, then," he said. It was only a few days away.

"Saturday," she confirmed with a nod. She too was surprised at her own intensity. "I'll, um, walk you out." She dried her hands on a dish towel and they made their way to the door in silence. Punk opened it, but instead of passing through the doorway, he remained, smiling down at her.

"Punk…" she said with a giggle, clasping her hands together nervously. "What?"

He cupped her chin, tipping it up to press his lips gently to hers. Her knees buckled, threatening to give- how long had it been since she last tasted his sweet, wonderful kiss? Too long. Far too long. She needed more of it, all of it, before she opened her eyes and woke up from this impossible dream. She needed to keep this moment and make it last.

Her hands framed his face, his cheeks coarse with facial hair that pricked her fingertips. Tears slipped through her closed lids as she leaned into him, deepening their kiss. How sorely she'd missed his chapped lips, the ones he bit constantly but saved only for her. The warmth his body fed hers as she pressed against him. How she'd missed every inch of him. _More, _she begged silently as his strong, able arms encircled her waist. _More of you. Please._

But as her hands began to descend his chest, he panicked. He quickly broke away from her, pulling her body away from his. "AJ, wait," he said frantically, stepping back.

She frowned up at him, blinking her unspent tears away. "What?" she whispered. "What's wrong?"

"I just…" he muttered, shaking his head. "I just think we should slow down. We've been apart for a long time. I don't want you to do something you'll regret in the morning."

She looked down, rejected. "If that's what you think is best," she muttered back. The tears were reforming. Had it been too long? Was there nothing left?

"Hey," he said, lifting her chin again to look up at him. "This isn't it, okay? I promise." He kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, AJ."

* * *

Punk didn't come by the next day. At first, this made AJ panic. Her eagerness had scared him off, surely. He wasn't ready, even though weeks ago their roles had been reversed, and she'd pushed him past his comfort zone. But this panic was quickly dispelled when she realized what day it was. Punk would be on his way to Philadelphia for ROH. Everything was okay. He would be here tomorrow, for the birthday party AJ was planning.

This year, Phillip had requested a Batman theme. AJ did her due diligence, purchasing Batman plates and cups and decorations for her newly 4-year-old boy. Punk was supposed to come early to help set everything up in the backyard, and AJ was opening a pack of napkins in the kitchen when she heard the doorbell ring. "Just a minute!" she called, setting the pack down.

"It's Daddy!" Phillip yelled from the door. "Can Sarah and me open it?"Before she could answer, she heard the door swing open. Punk's heavy footsteps preceded his arrival as he entered the kitchen, Phillip at his side and Sarah in his arms.

"Look, Mommy," Sarah announced proudly. "Daddy's here." AJ immediately turned around, but it wasn't her daughter's insistence that made her about face. Eyes widened, she looked from Sarah to Punk. He too was frozen, mouth slightly agape as he stared at the pleasant little girl in his arms.

"What did you just say?" Punk practically whispered, eyes shimmering as he gazed into the identical ones that stared back at him. Had they both heard her correctly? After weeks of coaxing the shy toddler out of her shell, did it really happen? "What did you say, sweetie?"

"Daddy's here," Sarah repeated with a smile. She nuzzled his neck.

"Daddy," Punk echoed, looking over her shoulder at AJ. "Did… did you hear that? Daddy."


	10. Chapter 10

Phillip's party was almost as great an experience for Punk as it was for the birthday boy. Spending time with his friends and family was a privilege he thought he'd never be able to have again. He saw Kofi and Kaitlyn again, and along with Colt and Zack, they laughed and joked like old times. Punk' sisters attended, too, and they were thrilled that AJ was willing to let Punk back into her life for the sake of their children. But being the little brats they were, they couldn't help but to prod at Punk about the possibility of there being another reason for AJ's allowances, too.

Both Punk and AJ leaned over Phillip as he blew out the candles on his Batman cake. Armed with AJ's camera, Kaitlyn snapped countless photos, eager to capture the moments. Phillip turned to Punk as wisps of smoke spiraled around them, smile a mile wide. "Will you be here next year, too?" he asked hopefully. "You missed last year."

"You bet, buddy," Punk assured him, squeezing his shoulders. "I'll be here next year, and the year after that, and the year after that, and the year after that. I'll always be here." He swore to himself silently that he would never miss another birthday of his children, for as long as he was still around to be there.

Next was Phillip's favorite part of the party- presents. He sat on Punk's lap as he tore at brightly colored paper, revealing clothes and Legos and action figures galore. Most of the presents were from Punk- to make up for every birthday he'd missed. As Phillip opened box after box (with Sarah on his heels, eagerly leaning over to see if there was anything of interest), Punk looked on, his smile widening with each squeal of delight his son let out.

_I'll never miss this again, Phillip, _he thought. _I promise._

* * *

"So," Kaitlyn said casually, "how are things going with Punk?"

AJ glanced over at her best friend curiously. "What do you mean?" she asked, sweeping a few more warped paper plates into the trash bag she held. She and Kaitlyn were cleaning up the aftermath of the party, while Punk got the kids ready for bed.

"You know what I mean," Kaitlyn replied almost giddily, adding a few crumpled napkins to the bag. "You swore three years ago you would never let him back into your life, and now you're all buddy-buddy again, laughing together, Sarah calls him Daddy… Come on." She nudged AJ suggestively with her elbow. "Something must be going on."

"Nothing's going on!" AJ protested lightly. "Not yet, anyway."

Kaitlyn's eyes widened. "Not yet?" she echoed in a sharp whisper. "Come on, spill!"

"Well…" She hesitated, recalling the sweet, tender kiss she and Punk shared. The thought of it sent a brief shiver down her spine. "A few weeks ago, he asked if we could start over. But I wasn't ready to even be _thinking _about that, so I said no. But we've been getting a lot closer lately, and he's bonded so well with the kids… A few nights ago, he kissed me. I guess I got a little crazy, and I was ready to just- oh hell, I don't know, jump his bones, I guess? But he pushed me away. He said we shouldn't do something in the heat of the moment that I might regret later." She frowned at the memory. "So I don't know what's going to happen now."

"He's nervous!" Kaitlyn exclaimed. "And it's pretty clear you are, too. You just have to take it slow! Maybe try something you guys never really got to do the first time around."

"I don't get it," AJ said with a shake of her head.

Kaitlyn sighed dramatically. "Oh, AJ, isn't it obvious?" she asked.

"I guess not, because I don't know what you're talking about," AJ replied.

"_Date_!"

* * *

Punk couldn't believe how well the day went. It was like a scene out of his greatest dream- having his family back, and being surrounded by his best friends. Even if he and AJ weren't quite a couple, that day, it sure seemed like they were. It was the small nuances between them that gave the illusion- the quick, easy passing of items, calling to each other over their shoulders, grinning over Phillip's head as he opened his gifts.

Even though it was Phillip's birthday, he couldn't forget about Sarah. She gave him the greatest gift of all, bestowing upon him the only title that ever really mattered to him. Daddy! The shy, timid, reserved little girl had finally crawled out of her shell, clinging to him as though he'd never been absent from her life. He was really her father now, and she had accepted him just as fully as Phillip.

And to be back with the gang again! A real treat, certainly. He didn't know how all of them managed to skip whatever house show they were undoubtedly skipping that day to be there, but he was grateful to have them. He exchanged verbal jabs with Kofi, endured Kaitlyn's teasing, taunted Zack for his taste in music, played jokes on Colt… Sitting around the table in the backyard, watching Phillip chase his sister around, it felt almost like old times.

Almost.

The party had wound down just over an hour ago now, and the last guest to linger (Kaitlyn, in her cleanup efforts) had just left. Punk was just closing the door to Sarah's room when he heard the back to creak slightly, signaling AJ's entrance to the house. He met her in the kitchen, where he found her tidying up the last of the remains of the party.

"They're both down," he announced, eyes skirting around her figure as she bent down to gather the trash bags together. "Phillip put up a little bit of a fight, though. He wants to play with his presents."

"Good," she replied as she turned around. Her smile, at first genuine, turned to one of humor. "Punk…"

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Were you just staring at my ass?"

"What?" he said frantically. "Uh, no! Of course not. Absolutely not." He looked away sheepishly, but it was too late to deny it. She was embarrassingly aware of the way his gaze had been shamelessly following her slinky form around the kitchen. How could he be so stupid? _Control yourself, _he thought. He was definitely sending her mixed signals…

But she just smiled, waving him off. "So, I've been thinking," she said, swiftly changing the subject.

He laughed. "Again?" he asked teasingly. "You know what trouble thinking gets you into…"

"Shut up!" she said with a chuckle, slugging his arm playfully. "I was talking to Kaitlyn earlier…"

"Oh no, here it comes," he said dramatically, with a small smile.

"…And I was thinking that we should go on a date."

Punk whipped his head about frantically, glancing over his shoulder. "Huh, so there's no one behind me," he clarified. "That must mean you're talking to me, then. AJ, are you asking me out?" But for all of his humorous digs, her statement had jumpstarted his heart rate. Did she really just ask him on date? Did she really want him back after all?

"As a matter of fact, I did," she confirmed proudly, with a stark nod. "Go out on a date with me.." Again the bolder, more confident AJ was making an appearance.

He laughed, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "Shit, it's been a long time since I've taken a girl out on a date," he said, finally displaying the nerves he truly felt. "Are you sure you want all my dirty high school tricks? Because I'm a lady killer, you know."

She smiled sweetly at him. "I'm sure," she said. She marched right up to him, poking his chest playfully with her index finger. "You're going to take me out on a date, Punk. Next Saturday. 7 PM. Don't be late."

"Wow, you've got this all figured out, haven't you?" he asked with a chuckle.

"I sure do." She leaned up on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Good night, Punk. Don't let me down next week, okay? I'm counting on you."

* * *

_The buzzer sounds. It's loud and shrill, louder than any pyrotechnic explosion or audience roar. Punk doesn't know what it means- he's only been here a few months, and nothing like this has ever happened before. He looks out over the cafeteria. It's frantic, blue jumpsuits blurred as men run back and forth. Trays are clanging, tables are slamming, bodies are crunching. _

_"What the fuck's happening?" Punk cries as he spots his cell mate, Jake. Jake's a good guy, at least as good as you can get in prison. He's got a family- he understands Punk. He's in here for armed robbery, one he committed to pay off some gambling debts. No one was hurt, but the judge threw the book at him, so here he is- with the scum of the planet, and with the most colorfully tattooed guy on the block. He replaced Sam after the attack on Punk, and they've been watching out for each other ever since._

_"Riot," Jake answered. "Some people get out of control, and it sets the rest of the hall off… Come on, we better move our asses back!"_

_As Punk turns to follow Jake to relative safety, he feels a sharp crack to the back of his head. He yelps and turns around, expecting Sam- but no. It can't be Sam. Sam's still in solitary, he can't get to Punk out here… surely not yet…_

_Close. It's not Sam, but another like-minded individual. Punk recognizes him- a buddy of ol' Sam's. They both smuggled drugs into the prison, and Punk's sure this guy is pissed now that his main supplier and partner in crime is off limits. Yes, he's out for blood, and he's just smacked Punk across the skull with a tray. He launches himself at Punk, sending him crashing back into a table. His side catches on a corner and he feels his jumpsuit tear, the corner digging into his ribs._

_"Get the fuck off him!" Jakes yells, pulling him back. But this guy, he knows his stuff. He's too strong for the lean Jake and throws him off before shoving a bench into Punk, right up against his ribs…_

* * *

"Jake! No!"

Punk shot out of bed, nearly falling to the floor as he sat up. He wasn't in the cafeteria at the prison- he was home, or at least as much at home as he could be right now. He was in Chicago, in Colt's apartment, in the spare room, surrounded by boxes. He wasn't back. He would never go back, as long as he lived.

It took about ten minutes for him to calm down, for his heart to slow down and the sweat to stop sliding down his forehead. Another nightmare- the third one this week. As always when he awoke with a fright, he wondered shamefully how he would ever be able to spend a night next to AJ. How could he be the man she remembered, the man she wanted and needed, when he could barely keep himself together?


	11. Chapter 11

"This is hilarious," Colt snickered. "I've never seen you so fucking nervous for a _date _before!" He laughed, slapping his thigh. "Shit, I don't even remember the last time you took a chick on a date, period. This is just great, dude."

"She's not just some girl," Punk growled. "She's my… my kids' mother."

"I know, I know," Colt intoned, smiling knowingly. "Just let me have a little fun with this, will ya? That's the third fucking shirt you've tried on. I'll give you a little hint- they all look the same."

"Then help me out, you asshole!" He threw the shirt at Colt, who just laughed again as he caught it. "This has to go right. I can't fuck it up. I can't lose her again." He groaned, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. He'd been stressing about this impending date all week, going over it in his head over and over again. It was Saturday afternoon, and he still had no idea what he was going to do. Where would he take her? What would he wear? What would they talk about? Would she even like his ideas? Everything had to be perfect.

Colt sighed, watching his best friend agonize. "Look, man, do you want my advice?" he asked.

Punk raised his head. "Go for it," he muttered.

"Be yourself," Colt answered. "Fuck, this is gonna sound so gay… Just hear me out, all right? Listen. You've been freaking out this whole time, but you're forgetting the most important part- she fell in love with _you_, dumbass. With your punk rock T-shirts and that stupid old hat you never take off and the dusty little pizza places you used to take her to. Now, call me an idiot if you want, but I'm pretty sure she's _still _in love with that same guy. So stop trying to impress her and be your fucking self."

"But what if she never fell in love with me to begin with?" Punk pressed, hands tightening at the thought. It was one of the possibilities that had always troubled him, since the beginning of their relationship. "We were only together for a month before we found out she was pregnant with Phillip. She was really unsure about the whole thing, but I… told her to have him. What if she never really wanted this? What if she just sort of… fell in love later, out of obligation, because I was her kid's dad?"

"Stop second-guessing yourself!" Colt snapped, punching him in the shoulder. "You know as well as I do that that's bullshit. She loves you, you idiot. Now go get her back already." He turned around, rifling through one of the cardboard boxes. Pulling out a Ramones T-shirt, he tossed at Punk. "Let's go. I'm babysitting, right? Story of my fucking life… One of these days, I'll get a girlfriend and you fuckers will have to stop calling me for childcare…"

* * *

AJ opened the door with a broad smile. "You're here!" she exclaimed. She was trying to hold back her enthusiasm, but it was hopeless. The excitement had been building inside her all week long. Throughout the day she chatted constantly to Kaitlyn via text, often ducking back into her closet to peruse different outfits. It took her about half the day to realize how absurd she was being- Punk wouldn't care what she was wearing. She didn't have to try to impress him. She hoped.

Punk grinned at her. "No place I'd rather be," he said as crossed through the doorway. He looked just like he always did- battered jeans, trademark hat, Ramones T-shirt beneath a black hooded sweatshirt. He looked just the way he did when she first met him, years ago when he was doing NXT commentary. She remembered it as the first time her heart fluttered for him, the dangerously attractive tattooed man with the lip ring and devilish smile.

Colt rolled his eyes as he followed Punk inside. "Save it for when you're out of here, will you?" he asked with a good-natured groan. "I'll be in the kitchen eating your leftovers, AJ. Is there still cake?" He winked at them both before disappearing.

AJ smiled at him before turning back to Punk. "The kids are already asleep, or I would tell you to go say goodnight to them," she said. "So… where are we going?"

"A little place downtown," he answered vaguely, with a grin. It was an old family restaurant he hadn't been to in years- he actually had to call earlier, to make sure it was still open, and was pleased to find out it was. He'd always planned on taking AJ there eventually, but it was something he just never got around to. Tonight, he would make up for that. Extending his arm to her, he smiled again. "Shall we?"

She smiled back. "Let's," she replied, taking his arm.

"Later, Colt!" Punk called over his shoulder as they headed to the door. "Thanks again!"

"Yeah, yeah," he called back from the kitchen. "Feel free to stay out as late as possible. Oh, and if I catch you making out in the driveway or something, I'm taking the rest of this cake with me as a consolation prize. So don't subject me to that!"

* * *

"So I told him to get back in the bathtub because he was still covered in mud, and he just threw the washcloth at me and told me he was a champion and I couldn't keep him down!"

Punk howled with laughter, nearly spitting out the mouthful of Pepsi he had. "If I didn't already know for sure he was my son…" He laughed again, wiping the corner of his mouth. "Shit. Phillip hangs out with way too many wrestlers."

"He's just like his daddy," AJ said with a smile. She paused for a moment, taking a long sip of her water as she glanced around the restaurant. The building was old, but the atmosphere was warm and inviting. Their table, an aged wood booth, held a type of old world charm she wasn't used to. "You know, I really like this place. It's small and sort of tucked away, but it's really nice. Great food, great music. How come you never took me here before?"

"I was always meaning to, but we never had the time," he admitted, a little sadly.

"So I only get to go to the nice places _after _we get divorced?" she teased, balling up her napkin and tossing it at him. "Thanks, _Punk_!"

"You know me," he teased back. "I like to keep things with a bit of class."

"I know you do." Her laughter-that contagious, bubbly giggle he loved so much-was like music to his ears. Her chocolate brown eyes glittered at him over the rim of her glass.

"I missed this," he muttered, reaching across the table casually to lay his hand on hers.

"Missed what?" she asked.

He lifted his other hand to her face, gently tracing the pad of his thumb over her smile. She shivered slightly beneath his touch. "This," he repeated.

They remained at the restaurant long after closing, empty plates left untouched at the end of the table. The staff avoided the huddled couple, sweeping around them and stacking chairs as they tried their best to ignore the quiet laughter drifting out of the back booth in the corner. Punk only realized what time it was when he saw the manager walking over, and instantly felt terrible for holding them up for so long.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Eddie," Punk said, quickly sliding out of the booth. "We'll get out of your hair." He pulled out his wallet, slipping two $100 bills into the older man's hand. "Make sure half of this goes to our waiter. It was that guy." He pointed over to the man stacking chairs near the bar, then extended his hand to AJ to help her out of the booth.

"Oh, Punk, you didn't have to pay," AJ said as they walked out of the restaurant. "I would have covered it. I know you… don't really have a lot of money." She looked down at her shoes for a moment, recalling how she hadn't even protested when he signed over virtually all of his 10 million dollar net worth to her in the divorce. _I should have said something, _she thought miserably. _I should have only let him give me half if that. If I wasn't so selfish, he would have a place of his own instead of sleeping in a guest room… And he wouldn't have had to borrow Colt's car…_

"Don't worry about it," he assured her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as they headed out to the parking lot. "ROH just paid me a few days ago. I can afford it."

"I should have at least paid my half!" she protested, but he shook his head.

"The man should always pay," he said firmly, squeezing her shoulder. "It's my job." He smiled broadly at her. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

He drove them back to the house, where they relieved a sleepy Colt from babysitting duty. He didn't even try to stick around to bring Punk home, merely winking at his friend over his shoulder before ducking out of the house and taking off. _That sly bastard, _Punk thought as he closed the door. He knew exactly what Colt had done, but he wasn't so sure if he was going to play along. He wanted to-that much was certain-but he didn't want to push AJ. Both of them had been hesitant to dive back into this, and he didn't want to ruin it by thinking like a man instead of like a gentleman.

"I had a really great time," she told him, wrapping her arms around him and tucking her chin against his chest. "I haven't had a night like that in…"

"Three years," he finished softly.

"Yeah," she agreed quietly. "Three years."

They were silent for a moment, the air between them changed slightly with the realization of how broken they both had been. Neither moved until Punk smiled at her, tipping his head down. He kissed her sweetly and tenderly, his lip ring poking gently against the corner of her mouth. He allowed his lips to remain pressed to hers for only a moment; he knew if they kissed any longer, he would want to go further. He forced himself to pull away, biting his bottom lip to curb his need for satisfaction.

"I should probably get out of here," he said finally. "But I'll see you tomorrow. Good night, AJ." He pressed another kiss to her forehead before turning away, heading for the door.

"Punk, wait!" she called as his hand closed around the knob.

He turned on his heel. "Yeah?" he asked.

"You should stay," she said, stepping toward him.

He turned fully to face her. "Should I?" he questioned as she reached him. "Do you really want me to?" Every cell in his body screamed at him to accept her offer, but he had to be sure. He had to be sure she wasn't just thinking in the heat of the moment, that she wouldn't wake up in the morning and be horrified at her decision.

It had to be right.

"Stay," she whispered, taking his hand and tugging him forward. "Stay."


	12. Chapter 12

"Stay with me," AJ said again, letting her fingers slowly entangle with his.

Punk's answer was to spin her into his embrace. Her kiss sent a charge of electricity straight through him; it was almost too much to handle. She was breathing life back into him with every sweet, tender movement of her mouth across his. Her hands were clasped around his neck as she leaned further into him, trying desperately to regain more of the taste from him she'd missed so badly. He easily gave it to her, sliding his tongue between her lips and thrashing it about with hers. He remembered this taste- citrus, like her favorite gum. It was the sweet and sour flavor he always associated with her, the one he tried his best to carry with him through all of his days behind bars.

Without warning, she pulled back from him. He frowned at her, confused as she giggled and tore away from his arms. "Come get me," she whispered seductively, before disappearing up the stairs. He gladly gave chase, following her rapidly up the steps. He crept slowly past the kids' darkened rooms before ducking through the only open door, to find her standing in the middle of the bedroom they once shared. It would be theirs again tonight.

She pulled him to her by his belt buckle, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses up and down his neck. Almost instantly, he let out a groan; three years apart, and she still knew just how to make him quiver. She could feel the vibrations in his throat beneath her lips, a reaction that only egged her on even more. His hands came to rest on the small of her back as hers made their way down his sides, eagerly tugging at the bottom of his shirt. She needed to feel his smooth, tight, inked skin beneath her fingertips again- needed it so badly she already found herself fighting against the fabric to get access to it. But to her surprise his hands came crashing down on hers, stopping them.

"Wait," he said frantically, his chest rising and falling sharply.

"What's wrong?" she asked with a slight frown.

"If you take this off… you might not like what's underneath," he admitted hesitantly. His ears and heart both pounded in anticipation. What would she think when she saw him? Would she be disgusted, terrified? Why hadn't he thought of this before? _Stupid, stupid, stupid, _he scolded himself.

She gently removed her hands from his, again taking hold of the bottom of his shirt. "Nothing under here will scare me away from you," she said firmly. She began to lift it again, and this time, he didn't stop her. He raised his arms to allow her to remove it, wincing slightly as he anxiously awaited her reaction. Looking down at his now bare torso, she gasped. Her eyes were fixed upon a long, ruler-straight line of knotted scar tissue on his stomach, just below his Straight Edge tattoo. She ran her index finger along the length of it, biting her lip as she fought back tears.

"Oh, baby," she whispered, "what happened to you?"

"I'm not the man I was," he whispered back, looking down.

She placed her hands on either of his stubble-covered cheeks, raising his head enough to look at her. "You are. You're still man who loved me, here, in this bed. And you're going to do it again… because I know you. I know this." One of her hands drifted down to his chest, covering his rapidly beating heart.

She allowed him then to take hold of her, raising her arms so he could remove her shirt. He fumbled clumsily with the clasp of her bra, but she let him take as much time as he needed to get her bare. The need that had consumed her only moments ago was rapidly overtaking him, too. He sorely desired to feel her sweet, gorgeous flesh against his… no matter how scarred it was.

A small gasp escaped her as he drew her back onto the bed behind them. He was fighting almost angrily with the button securing her pants, as though he were running out of time… But she knew better. He had to get to her, to feel her warmth, as soon as he could. So she helped him, raising her hips slightly to allow him to slide her few remaining garments free from her body. She quickly went to work removing his jeans and boxers; he moaned into her neck as the fabric slid over his throbbing tip. With no relief for so long, that slight touch was enough to leave his knees shaking. Feeling her, finally free and pure against his own hardened body, nearly drove him over the edge right there.

"I missed this," he whispered huskily into the shell of her ear, rolling the peaks of her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. Her back arched off the bed at his touch, a feathered moan slipping between her lips. "I dreamed about it, every night. I dreamed about hearing you like this, making you happy, loving your entire body…"

"Punk…" she moaned, her head rolling to the side as he dragged his tongue around the fullness of her breasts. "Yes, baby… Just like that…"

"Like this?" He slid a finger slowly between her moistened folds, rocking it back and forth.

"Oh!" she cried, her legs going rigid. "Yes, please…" She hadn't felt this in a long time. Not since the last time he touched her this way, leaving her breathless and begging and crying out for more of him. She raked her nails up the back of his neck, biting down desperately on her lip to keep from screaming. He was using everything had to completely shock her senses, sucking deeply on one of her hardened nipples as he added another finger between her legs.

As he made his way up and down her body, reintroducing himself to the landscape of her beautiful, petite form, he constantly had to remind himself that this was real. He was sure he would awaken any moment now, the shrill sound of a buzzer shocking him out of his miserable bunk. But each time he opened his eyes, she still remained. She writhed helplessly beneath him, completely at his mercy.

"Punk, please take me," she begged. "Do it. Please." She could feel him, fully erect and throbbing with desire for her, pressing against her thigh. He was so hot against her, she was sure he'd leave a scar.

She stared at him through drugged, half-lidded eyes as he removed his fingers, watching her as he licked them clean. "Just as sweet as I remembered," he murmured, crawling over her. He parted her thighs gently with his knee. He was ready, but he had to ask, just one last time. "Are you sure?"

In answer she reached between them to cup him, her skilled fingers gently massaging one of his most sensitive of spots. A strangled moan slipped out, his knees buckling; he would have collapsed atop her, had he not been holding onto the headboard. She knew what she wanted, all right. And he would give it to her. Pulling her hand away he drove his length between her trembling legs, burying himself up to the hilt. They both let out unintelligible cries; finally, after so long, they were one again.

He began to move inside her, slowly at first. As he picked up speed her arms encircled his back, fingers running over new scars and unhealed wounds she hadn't discovered before. Her heart broke for him, but with each buck of his hips against hers, he healed it. She could see the concentration written on his face as his almost glowing eyes bore through hers. He was trying desperately to make this last, not only for him, but for her.

But it didn't take long for her, despite his efforts. She shook with ecstasy only moments later, crying his name into his ear as her nails dug into his back. Waves of pleasure continued to tear through her as his own body stiffened, throwing his head back as he released. She could finally feel him flowing inside her, filling her with the warmth only he could give her.

"Oh, baby, please stay," she gasped, her body still shuddering against his. "Please stay with me. I love you. Please, Punk… Phil… I love you…"

"I… I love you, too," he whispered back, holding her close as her body slowed to normalcy. She still had him in her heart; he'd always known she did, as it was the same for him. He could only hope she would still feel the same way in the morning.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's note: Hey everyone. I just wanted to let you all know there's been some rampant plagarism out there of my stories and those of my friends. Keep an eye out and let us know if you see people stealing others' hard work! Anyways enjoy chapter 13!**

* * *

_"We've got to be more careful now," Jake says. "After what I did during the cafeteria riot, they'll be gunning for both of us."_

_"I know, I know," Punk mutters. "You shouldn't have stepped in, Jake. This was my problem, not yours." He and Jake are in the yard, backs leaning against the fence as they look out over the rest of the prison population. Sam's not out of solitary yet- but that doesn't matter. Sam's whole crew, the drug runners of the prison, is out for Punk's blood. And now that Jake defended him during the riot, he's on their radar, too. If anything happens to Jake, Punk knows it'll be all his fault._

_Jake merely waves him off. "It's no big deal," he says casually. "Besides, if they wasted you, I would have to get a new cellmate. What if I got someone really awful, like a hillbilly?"_

_Punk laughs; Jake always knows how to make light of a serious situation. If he can stick with Jake for the next few years, he might just make it out of this alive. They just have to watch each other's backs._

_But even with looking over their shoulders all the time, trying to stay within sight line of a guard as often as possible, it's not enough. The buzzer that signals the end of yard time sounds, and a wave of blue jumpsuits begins to make its way back toward the prison. Punk and Jake get jostled about in the huddled mass, and before they know it, they're the last place they want to be- right in the middle, completely surrounded by a wall of other inmates._

_"Don't worry," Jake says, easily detecting Punk's nervousness. "I don't see any of them around us. We just have to keep moving, and-"_

_Before Jake can finish his sentence, a hulking figure behind them throws him to the ground. Another yanks Punk aside as the first steps on Jake's shoulder joint, grabbing hold of his arm and pulling it back. There's a sickening crack, and Jake cries out in pain. His attacker quickly steps back, signaling for the man holding Punk to run off._

_"Consider this a warning," he whispers, before disappearing into the crowd. As usual, none of the other inmates say a word. They're too afraid for their own lives. Punk can only look down in horror at his friend, who writhes on the concrete floor in agony…_

* * *

"Jake! No! Don't hurt him!"

Punk shot out of bed, so fast he nearly fell to the floor. His heart was thudding wildly, blood pounding in his ears. A cold sweat covered him, and he was gripping the sheets for dear life.

"Punk?" AJ cried, sitting up. "What's wrong? What happened?" His cries had woken her instantly, and she now sat with a concerned hand on his arm. "Were you having a nightmare?"

"I… I…" he gasped, his chest still heaving violently. "I don't know…" He looked around the room frantically. Red walls… white sheets… a soft, comfortable mattress beneath him… No, he wasn't in prison. He was home in Chicago, with AJ by his side.

"Shhh," she whispered, rubbing his arm gently. "Everything's okay, baby. Everything's okay, I promise."

He looked at her frantically, still shaking despite her attempts to comfort him. "I should go," he muttered, quickly pulling the blanket off his bare body and getting out of bed.

"What?" she asked, confused as she watched him gather his clothes from the floor. "Why? Punk, what are you doing? You just need to calm down…"

He shook his head rapidly as he pulled on his pants. "You shouldn't be around me right now," he said, tightening his belt. He had to get out of here and away from AJ as soon as possible. If he was here with her, and the kids… He didn't want his darkness to taint them, too.

"Punk, _stop_!" she cried. She hopped off the bed, wrapping a sheet around herself and hurrying to get between him and the door.

"AJ, I need to get out of here," he said urgently. His hands were shaking. She was so beautiful… The love in her eyes and her tantalizing bare skin begged him to stay, but he couldn't.

"Listen to me," she pleaded. "You don't have to go anywhere. I know you're scared; I am, too. But you can't push me away again! The last time you did this, it tore us apart and ruined our marriage. You said you realized you were wrong in prison. Well, you need to realize it again now. We're just starting to get back what we had before… If you run away again, we'll lose it all."

Punk's rapid breathing began to slow, his shoulders sagging as he lowered his shirt. She was right. She had to be. He couldn't do this again. He couldn't let his fear and apprehension destroy their lives a second time, not when he was so close to getting it all back. Nodding slowly, he allowed her to lead him back to the bed. They sat down, and she stroked his cheek gently.

"Let me help you," she whispered.

* * *

"So," Colt intoned, "how did it go?"

Punk laughed, shutting the fridge after retrieving his Pepsi. "Do you really have to ask?"

"You're right," Colt agreed as Punk joined him on the couch. "I know your 'I just got laid' face all too well. It's heart-warming, really."

"Shit, it was more than that!" Punk told him popping the tab open on the can. "It was… fuck. I don't even know how to explain it, man."

"Ah, the l-word, then," Colt mused, which Punk confirmed with a nod. "So if it went so well, why did you come back here? Not that you're not welcome or anything. You know that. But you got here really early. It almost seems like you bailed before she woke up."

"No, we were both up," Punk explained. "We decided it would be better if I were out before the kids woke up. We didn't want them to know I stayed over. I'm going back later today."

Colt frowned. "Why not?" he asked.

"Well, we just got back together," Punk reminded him. "Moving in and setting up house after one successful date doesn't sound like a good idea. If the kids saw me making breakfast or something, they'd start asking even more questions than they already do. Sarah's asked more than once why Mommy and Daddy don't live in the same house."

"You're taking it slow," Colt said. "That's… good, I guess? So what are you going to do now? Just… date for awhile and see where it goes?"

"I guess so," Punk replied. "I don't really have a plan." He sighed, taking a sip of his soda. He flipped the tab for a moment, toying with the weak aluminum piece idly. "I just really want this to happen, Colt. I want my family back more than anything. I want my wife, and my son, and now my daughter, too."

Colt smiled at him. "I know you do. And I think you'll get it."

Punk hoped his best friend was right, but in the back of his mind, he wasn't so sure. The memories-the memories of prison, and everything that happened there-still lingered. They plagued him, every night, threatening to consume him and take over. AJ wanted to help him, to bring him out of the shadows that were trying to drag him back. But could she rescue him from himself? He didn't know. He looked down at his hand, where his wedding ring glinted at him. He hoped she would be wearing one again, too.


	14. Chapter 14

Over the next month, Punk and AJ had fallen into another predictable pattern, and this was the best one yet. He came to the house almost every day at the usual hour, and they would spend time together as a family for the rest of the afternoon. After having dinner and putting the kids to bed, they would have their alone time- curling up on the couch and watching movies, playing videogames, and even trying their hand at a few board games. On days he was booked for an appearance at Ring of Honor, he would come over earlier, seeing the kids off to school and spending the morning with AJ before catching the bus or train to the show. Some nights, he would take her out, leaving the kids with one of his sisters or Colt and showing her a memorable evening on the town. He'd even brought some of his clothes over to leave at the house, just to make things easier. It seemed small, but it was a huge indicator of just how far they'd come.

AJ had to admit, dating her ex-husband again was a strange concept for her to grasp at first. Most couples who split the way they had almost never reconciled like this, starting their relationship over again. And even then, could she really say they were 'going out' for a second time? The first time around, they were barely able to get to know each other before they discovered she was pregnant with Phillip. In a way, she was almost glad to have the chance to do this- she was getting to fall in love with him all over again. It was like living in a fantasy world. She had two beautiful children, and their father absolutely doted on her.

But there was something that still bothered her. Every night he stayed over (which usually ended up being four or five days a week), he awoke with a start in the early morning, always sweating. He often cried out names she didn't recognize- usually _Sam_, or _Jake_, sometimes both. As he shook frantically she would hold him in her arms, whispering to him soothingly calmed down and came back to reality. Although she never asked, she was sure it had something to do with prison. She didn't want to bring back any awful memories for him more than they already had been, so she kept her mouth shut, at least in front of Punk.

"Hey, Colt?" AJ said one day when he came over to pick Punk up. He was still in the backyard, chasing the kids around. "I need to ask you something."

"Sure," Colt replied with a nod, pulling up a stool to the kitchen counter. "What's up?"

She glanced at the window to make sure Punk was still occupied before answering. "I don't know if you would know, but there might be a chance he told you while he was in there…" She looked down for a moment. "He has nightmares, Colt. Really bad nightmares."

Colt gulped. "Oh boy," he muttered.

"So you know," AJ said, and he nodded. "Well, he's usually saying some names I've never heard of… Jake, or sometimes Sam. I didn't want to ask him because I don't want him to get upset, so I was hoping you would know. Who are those people? Why does he talk about them? Why does he have so many nightmares about them?"

"I… don't know if I should tell you," he admitted after a moment's pause. "He told me some stuff, but not everything. I think he just wants to forget."

"But if I know, maybe I can help him!" she said. "The nightmares are getting worse. Sometimes I catch him staying up at night, just so he won't fall asleep and see whatever it is he's seeing."

"If they're that bad, then you should talk to him about it," he urged her.

"But-" she began.

"What did he agree on with you?" he reminded her, cutting her off. "No hiding things, no running away, right? Well, it goes both ways."

His words struck a chord with her; he was right. If she really wanted to know, she was going to have to ask him directly. But now wasn't the time. Punk and Colt were headed to Ring of Honor, and she wasn't about to drag tortured memories out of him when he was going in to work. So she and the kids said goodnight to him, and she left a slow, lasting kiss on his cheek before he left.

* * *

The next day, Punk returned to the house in the morning. He was eager to see AJ and the kids again. Aside from the terrors that plagued him at night, things were going well- very well. Better than he could have ever dreamed. For the first time in years, he was hopeful for the future. He imagined waking up in bed somewhere down the line, with AJ next to him, and the kids down the hall. Maybe he would even have a title belt around his waist again someday.

The sky was the limit now… as long as the evil in the back of his mind didn't threaten to drag him back. And it always did, rearing its ugly head at night. It wanted him, called to him, and brought him back to that cramped, dirty cell. _No. Stop. Just focus on your family._

When he knocked on the door, there was no pitter-patter of little feet running to the door to greet him. AJ opened the door alone, smiling at him as she stepped back to allow him inside. As soon as he closed the door behind him, she threw her arms around his neck. "I missed you!" she said excitedly, kissing him. "How was the show last night?"

"Good," he answered, kissing her forehead. Then he yawned; he didn't get much sleep anymore. It was easier just to stay awake- it staved off the nightmares. "It was good." He glanced around the living room- nothing. "Where are the kids? Are they napping or something?"

"Well, no," she admitted. "They're with your sisters."

"Oh, that's cool, I guess," he said, allowing her to lead him into the living room. "But… why?"

She sighed as they sat down. "I need to talk to you, and I didn't want them around to hear it."

His chest tightened up. Suddenly, all of the deliriously happy thoughts that had been running through his mind were banished. This was it. "You're breaking up with me, aren't you?" he asked quietly, the very words burning his lips as they left his mouth.

"What?" she asked, shaking her head. "No, baby. No. That's not it at all. Calm down, it's okay." She placed a reassuring hand on his knee.

He let out a great sigh, audibly relieved. "Fuck," he muttered. "Don't scare me like that. There's not a lot out there that scares me, but 'we need to talk' has to be the most terrifying sentence I've ever heard."

"It's nothing like that," she promised, rubbing his leg. "Don't worry about that. But…" She hesitated. "You still might not like it."

"As long as you're not kicking my ass to the curb, I'm sure it'll be fine," he said with a chuckle. He leaned back into the couch cushions, relaxed now. "So what's up?"

She took a deep breath; she knew she couldn't beat around the bush. She just had to come right out and say it. "I wanted to ask you about your nightmares," she said simply.

Again, he felt that familiar pang in his chest. "What about them?" he asked coolly, trying to keep his composure, but it was hard. He didn't want to talk about this.

"Well, I'm assuming they're about… prison," she said slowly, and he confirmed her assumption with a nod. "And they seem pretty intense, so I won't ask you to describe them or anything like that… But right before you wake up, you're usually talking."

_Fuck, _he thought. _I talk in my sleep? This isn't good. _Swallowing hard, he nodded again. "Okay," he said. "What am I saying?"

She noticed that he was already visibly uncomfortable, and suddenly wished she hadn't said anything. But there was no turning back now. "Names," she answered nervously. "Jake. Sam."

"No…" he muttered, shaking his head vigorously. "I… I don't want to talk about them…" He got up and began pacing the room. She'd never seen him so terrified before.

"Baby, please," she begged. "Just talk to me about it. They're getting worse and you barely sleep. If you stop keeping everything bottled up inside you, maybe it won't be so bad."

He stopped pacing and turned on his heel to face her. "You don't understand!" he snapped.

"Then _make _me understand," she pleaded. She felt even worse now- they had yet to even get into anything, and he was already so agitated that his hands were shaking. "Please, Punk. Don't shut me out. Just talk to me." She patted the space beside her on the couch. "Please."

His shoulders heaved with the deep breath he took, but he finally sank back onto the couch next to her. He drummed his hands on the coffee table nervously; how could he even begin to answer her questions without unraveling the whole twisted, horrifying tale?

She could easily detect his apprehension. "Just tell me whatever you're comfortable with saying," she said lightly, taking his hand. "Tell me about Jake."

"Jake Harmon was my cell mate for most of the time I was there," he answered. He looked to her for guidance, and she nodded encouragingly. "He… was a nice guy. Good man. He was just a few years younger than me. Had a family. He was only in there for robbery. We… kept an eye on each other." He reached instinctively for his wallet, which had a chain strung through it that attached to his belt loop. Around it was a stainless steel ring- it had been Jake's.

"So you were friends," she guessed, and he nodded. "That's great! I didn't know you made any friends in there. I'm glad you had someone to watch out for you. Is he still there? You should write to him."

He looked down, his fists curling as his heart began to race. "I can't," he muttered.

She smiled at him. "I'm sure we can find him somehow," she said. "If you two were close it might help both of you to keep in touch."

He just shook his head. "I can't," he repeated. He could feel his nails digging into his palms, his eyes shut tightly as he tried desperately to block the memories out.

"Why not?" she asked, frowning.

He forced his eyes to open so he could look at her. "Because," he replied, "he's dead."


	15. Chapter 15

_Prison industries._

_It's a good gig. It allows prisoners to get on work crews throughout the prison. It's usually basic stuff- landscaping, minor maintenance, some repairs, etc. If you've got a good record and are easy enough to work with, you can sign up and pass an evaluation. The prisoners get paid around 75 cents an hour for their hard labor. But Punk and Jake don't care about the pittance thrown their way. All they know is it gets them out of their cells, and any time they get that isn't behind bars sounds good to them. They sign up as soon as they find out about it, and before they know it they're raking leaves, folding laundry, and cleaning trays. Because they're cell mates, they're usually on a crew together- it's easier, logistically._

_But what Punk and Jake don't know, because they're new, is the darker side of it. The system is corrupt, and prison industries is just the bottom of the barrel. Things can go wrong on work crews. People get hurt and people die. It's the easiest place to get people alone, because the guards are pretty lax with the work crews… sometimes by accident, and sometimes on purpose._

_This week, they feel as if they've struck gold. Punk and Jake have been assigned to patch some of the aging concrete along the outer wall of the prison. Because they're in the deserted no-man's land between the fence and the wall, there's nowhere they can go, and they'll mostly be left alone. They can laugh and banter as much as they want, while being out of their cells for hours a day. The other two guys on their work crew are pretty easy going, too- a car thief, and a young man who knocked over a few liquor stores. They aren't terribly violent offenders. They get alone well. This should be fine._

_But on the third day, when the guard brings them to their usual spot, their fellow inmates aren't there. Already, Punk and Jake are suspicious- they exchange nervous glances. They have to be here at the same time to start, as per protocol. What's going on here?_

_"What are you waiting for?" the guard snaps._

_"The other guys," Punk answers. "Where are they?"_

_"They'll be here soon," the guard growls. "Get to work." He turns to leave._

_"This isn't right," Jake mutters with a shake of his head._

_"Something's up," Punk agrees. The air around them is tense for some reason. They can tell that all is not well around them, and they don't know what. But what choice do they have? They'll catch hell if a guard comes back and they're just standing around. They have no choice but to start working. Together they haul a bag of concrete mix over and begin to combine it with the water. They continue to glance uneasily over their shoulders as they grab their trowels to begin the patchwork._

_About half an hour later, they hear the familiar sound of shoes scraping gravel- people are coming. They immediately turn around to see the guard making his way back with two more inmates, and not the ones Punk and Jake are used to working with. Immediately, Punk's stomach sinks. He looks to Jake for confirmation, who is grimacing as well. They recognize these men. They know who they are._

_These are two of Sam's boys._

_"You c-can't leave us here!" Jake stammered, looking from the inmates to the guard with dismay._

_"Do I look like I give a shit?" the guard grumbles. "Do your fucking jobs, convicts." He spins on his heel and storms off, leaving Punk and Jake in the company of two hard-shouldered men. They eye their workmates carefully as they bend to pick up trowels._

_"No trouble, right?" Punk asks, slowly sidestepping over to Jake._

_"Sure," one of them says with a nod, but Punk knows this expression. He knows it all too well. He doesn't want to turn his back on these men, but they're already at work, mindlessly dragging their trowels across the areas of the wall that need to be patched. Maybe he's wrong… maybe he's just being paranoid. Surely they just wanted on an easy work crew. That had to be it. Yes, he needs to stop acting like an old lady. Everything's going to be fine. He and Jake just need to focus on their work, and-_

_It happens too fast. Before either of them realizes what's going on, Sam's boys are on them. One of them delivers a sharp, violent kick to the back of Punk's knees, sending him crashing forward to the floor. He sends another to the back of his head, and Punk's seeing stars. He looks up in time to see the other man shoving Jake up against the wall, sliding a homemade shank deep into his stomach. A deep red stain rapidly spreads across Jake's jumpsuit and he crumples, landing next to Punk._

_"No!" Punk cries. His own pain is banished and he rolls over, gathering his friend into his arms. He sees the other two already running off at breakneck speed, rounding the corner where the guard had left. "Jake, no," he begs. "Come on, buddy. Stay with me! CO! CO, get over here! You can't leave me in here alone, you motherfucker! Come on! CO, where the fuck are you?"_

_But no guard comes running to his aid. He's forced to sit helpless, cradling Jake's head in his lap. He gurgles incoherently, blood dribbling out of the corners of his mouth. He's dying in Punk's arms, covering them both in blood. He watches as Jake's eyes roll to the side slightly, his gaze vacant. He's gone now, and there's nothing he can do about it._

* * *

AJ was in tears by the end of Punk's story. She had remained silent the whole way through, but she couldn't contain herself anymore. "Oh, my God," she sobbed, clutching his sleeve with shaking hands. "How… how could that happen?" She'd never even seen a picture of Jake but she could visualize him now, fading away in Punk's embrace.

"It was a set up," Punk answered. He was stoic, but she knew him well enough to know he was fighting back tears, too. "That was the first time I learned that not all the guards are there to just keep everybody in line. A lot of them are dirty bastards; half of the corruption that goes on in prison couldn't happen without them. Sam was tight with the one who switched up our work crew, allowing two of his men to get to us with no problem."

"But they can't just ignore something like that!" she protested with a small gasp. "There's no way they can just cover up a dead body!" Were things really so corrupt in prison? Suddenly, all the movies and TV shows she'd seen didn't seem like such fiction after all.

"Officially, it was ruled an accident," he answered. "They said he slipped and fell on the sharp edge of his trowel. When I said otherwise, I got a month in the hole. They said it was for resisting a guard, but I knew it was for trying to snitch." He laughed harshly. "Trying to rat out an officer was my worst idea yet. The last eight months of prison was even more of a hell than the rest of the time I was there. They always made sure I was set up in a position where Sam's gang could get to me. I got the shit beat out of me at least a few times a month- sometimes once or twice a week."

"Oh, baby…" she whispered. Her heart broke for him. He was all alone in there for such a long time, living in fear, constantly being attacked. How could she have left him alone like that? She wrapped her arms around him, holding onto his shoulders as though she were the one who needed comfort for her dear friend's death. "Is that how you got this?" One of her hands drifted toward his stomach.

He shook his head. "That happened when I was only inside for about a month," he replied. "When Sam was my cellmate. He stabbed me with a sharpened toothbrush."

Fresh tears sprang to her eyes. "I can't believe this happened," she muttered. Then she frowned, wiping her tears away. "Wait, you never told me who Sam was. You talk about him a lot in your sleep, too."

"He was the biggest drug runner there," he explained. "Real meth head. He had a connection with some of the guards to keep the supply moving- basically the worst enemy you could have in there. He was just starting his second stretch in prison when I got there, so he was still going through withdrawal when straight edge me comes along. He didn't like that." He laughed harshly. "You know, I never did figure out why he didn't just kill me outright. He could have, plenty of times, but he kept me alive. I guess he just wanted to see me suffer after taking away everything he could that I cared about."

Hearing him speak so casually and emotionless about it terrified her. Prison had definitely changed him. "Well, he can't take _me _away," she said firmly, gripping his shoulders and forcing him to look at her. "He can never take me, Phillip, or Sarah away from you. You'll always have us, okay? Always."


	16. Chapter 16

Sometimes, it was the little things about being free that Punk really enjoyed.

They were things most people didn't even think about- going grocery shopping, wearing jeans, standing in front of the refrigerator to decide what to eat, using scented soap, stepping on fallen leaves. He even looked forward to doing the chores that most people loathed- doing the dishes, laundry, mopping the kitchen floor, folding clothes. Having his entire day restricted and structured for so long made even the smallest, most miniscule choices mean the world.

But reintegrating into so society after years of being locked way had its own set of challenges. Even when he didn't have nightmares, he was still unable to sleep any later than 6:30 in the morning, when the lights came on in prison. He sometimes found himself clenching his fists around police officers, anticipating a search, or cuffs being slapped on his wrists, or the collar of his shirt being jerked roughly from behind. He'd become very frugal with money, too, counting every dollar and every cent, sure he would be cut off at any moment (guards often restricted access to commissary accounts as arbitrary punishment to inmates). And he was always looking over his shoulder nervously, wondering if his next violent beating was just around the corner.

Readjusting to life with AJ wasn't easy, either. After finally telling her the reason behind his nightly terrors, both of them thought the hardest part was behind them now… but it soon revealed that things weren't all black in white. Instead of bringing them closer together, it had the opposite effect. Neither of them meant for it to happen, but with the changes inside him now fully out in the open, they found their conversations becoming more and more strained as time went on. They spent less time with each other than they used to, preferring to seek comfort in their own solitude instead of with each other.

It didn't take long for AJ to realize what was happening. When Punk stayed over she often woke during the night to find the space next to her empty. She would tiptoe halfway down the stairs, crouching on one of the steps. Peering through the slats of the banister, she'd spot Punk on the couch, staring at the television screen. But he wouldn't be watching late night talk shows. He was usually watching old footage of himself- matches, his DVD, promos. Sometimes, it would be home movies- their wedding, videos of baby Phillip crawling around in the living room.

But the most heartbreaking was one night when she stumbled upon him watching nothing at all. He had a photo album spread out on the coffee table, and even from afar she recognized it- Sarah's baby pictures. As she drew closer to the living room, she saw which ones he was looking at. The new baby, minutes old in her mother's arms. Sitting cross-legged on the rug, reaching for a toy. Hanging onto a baby gate, knees bowing as she tried to stand.

"I missed this," Punk muttered, flipping another page of the album as she sat down beside him. "I missed all of this."

"Oh, baby," she whispered painfully, "I'm so sorry." She embraced his arm comfortingly. "But… you were in prison. It's not like you would have been here for most of this, anyway."

"I would have!" he said fiercely, whipping around to face her. "I wouldn't have been there every day, but I wouldn't have missed her entire life! They let you out for child birth and funerals. I could have seen her first moments! You could have brought her to me, but you hid her from me instead!" He jerked his arm away from her.

Her eyes widened; she hadn't been prepared for such a reaction from him. "What was I supposed to do, Punk?" she hissed. "You pushed me and Phillip away! How was I supposed to know me suddenly being pregnant would have changed anything?"

"I know I was wrong!" he snapped. "I admitted it. I fucked up and I owned up to what I did. But you hid this from me for three years! I have a daughter who I never held as a baby! I'll never have those memories, because you took them from me!"

"Punk, I…" She shook her head slowly, standing up and backing away from the couch. "I don't know what to say…"

"You don't have to say anything." He stood up as well, snapping the photo album shut and grabbing his keys before searching for his shoes.

"Where are you going?" she asked. "Punk, you can't-"

"I'm going home," he answered stiffly.

"_This _is your home!" she cried.

He just shook his head. "I can't be here right now," he said as he slipped on his shoes. "I need some time to think." He shook off her attempts to pull him back, leaving her with one lingering glance before going to the door.

"No," she sobbed, sliding down onto her knees against the couch. "Please don't leave me again." But he had already left.

* * *

The following day was absolutely miserable for AJ. She spent the rest of the night on the couch, sobbing. How could he walk out on her again, when they were so close to getting back everything they had before? How could he give up so quickly? Just like old times, he was unsure of himself yet again. What would it take for him to find his bearings? And how much longer could she allow her own heart to be tugged back and forth? Tears of sorrow and frustration were dried on her cheeks by the time the morning came, and the tell-tale sound of little feet told her that her children were awake.

"Mommy!" Sarah exclaimed, her hair tangled in a sleepy halo as she padded over to the living room. She crawled into AJ's lap, blissfully unaware of her mother's emotional state. "Where's Daddy?"

"He's coming over for breakfast, right?" Phillip asked hopefully, not far behind her. He was holding his Wrestlemania 28 bear by his side; it was the only relic from his father that even AJ couldn't stand to take from him. He was so attached to it, and she didn't want to upset him any more than he already was with Punk's departure. She was sure he would simply think it just another toy, and had assumed so all these years, but when Punk came back into their lives, she knew he was aware that the small toy was all he had left of his father to hold onto.

"Oh, sweetie," she managed, "I… I think Daddy might be busy today." Watching her children's faces sag with this revelation was like a vice grip around her heart. She knew how much they looked forward to eating together as a family.

"Why?" Phillip demanded, stomping his foot angrily. "He said he was going to be here!"

AJ straightened herself up. "He has work to do," she said vaguely. She hated lying to them, but as nervous as they got about their father possibly leaving them again, she knew it was for the best.

But Phillip saw right through it. "Where did he go?" he cried.

"Does Daddy still love me?" Sarah whispered, shrinking away.

Her daughter's question sent fresh tears to her eyes. "Of course he does," she whispered back, her voice breaking. "He'll be here… Maybe tomorrow…" Unconvinced by his mother's statement, Phillip stomped away to his room; AJ heard his door slam a moment later. Sarah, the more reserved of the siblings, merely crumpled to the floor of the living room, quietly fiddling with an unfinished puzzle.

The kids treaded lightly around her for the rest of the day, highly sensitive now to AJ's reluctance to reveal Punk's whereabouts. They didn't trust her assertion that he would be back soon, and feeling betrayed, only came to her during mealtimes. Their coldness reminded her of Punk… they emulated their father sometimes without even knowing it. It only upset AJ even more. She'd called him several times, as well as Colt, but neither of them answered.

Later that night, AJ lay awake. Sleep was a hopeless mission, as there was no way she could find any comfort in her bed with it so empty, so she resigned herself to another restless night. It was raining, and although normally the sound of precipitation was soothing to her, tonight it was only a reminder of the dampness that refused to leave her cheeks.

Shortly after midnight, she heard a loud tap coming from the back of the house. She merely rolled over, ignoring it, sure it was a tree branch brushing against something. But a moment later, it happened again. Frowning, she sat up as she heard the sound once more; it was coming from a window, and it was too solid to be the wispy branches that extended far enough to reach the house. She let the blanket fall from her shoulders as she cautiously went into the hallway. As she stood before the window, she finally discovered the source of the noise as a pebble struck the glass. Staring through it, she saw the perpetrator- a single figure stood shrouded in darkness. Her first instinct was fear, but then she realized… she knew this figure. She knew that form.

It was Punk standing in the middle of the backyard.


	17. Chapter 17

"Punk?" AJ called out into the almost deafening rainstorm. "Is that you?" He came closer to her, the wet grass squelching beneath his feet, until he was standing a few feet back from the edge of the uncovered porch. "What are you doing here? Why did you come in through the backyard?" She could see a tear in the hem of his shirt- it had probably snagged when he presumably climbed over the fence.

"It was faster than the front roads," he called back.

"Faster than borrowing Colt's car?" she asked.

He frowned. "I hadn't thought of that," he admitted. Studying him, she noticed he wasn't even wearing his hat. He must have been in quite a rush to forget to put it on before leaving. But he shook his head. "Whatever. It's not important. Just come here."

"Out there?" she said uncertainly, pointing out into the storm. "It's pouring!" She hugged her arms, rubbing them rapidly; she was already cold.

"Come on!" he called, waving her forward. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

She could feel her heart pounding with every tentative step she took out into the yard. In the heavy downpour, she was completely soaked in seconds. She had a million questions for him, and for herself. What the hell was he even doing here? What had him so distracted that he ran all the way here instead of driving? Why did he look so nervous? Shaking her head, she folded her arms and tried to ignore the cold. "All right," she said finally, "what is this?"

"Look," he began, holding is arms out, "this isn't easy. It took Colt a few hours of yelling at me and pacing my room back and forth for the rest of the day to come to my senses and figure this out. So I'm just going to come right out and say it." He sighed, slipping his hand-with some difficulty-into his drenched pocket to pull something out, dropping to one knee before her. She gasped as he revealed the item concealed in his fist- she recognized that box. She would recognize it forever, until the day she died. She remembered when she first saw it, years ago, in the middle of the ring at Hell in a Cell.

"Punk…" she whispered.

He opened the box, and even in what little light the obscured moon offered, she could see the glint off the diamond of her old engagement ring. "Marry me?" he asked.

Her heart stopped for a moment; she was sure of it. "Punk," she whispered again. "I… How can you just… this is so sudden!"

"AJ, just listen to me," he begged. "I don't know when or if I'll get myself back… but you and the kids are what's left of the good part of me. When you're with me, I'm human again. I know I'm scared and you're scared but what I'm even more scared of is losing all of you one more time. I can't do it again. I love you, April. I love Phillip, and I love Sarah, and I love you. I never want to be away from you, baby." He took her shaking left hand, holding it in his.

"Oh, Punk, I don't know…" She shook her head rapidly. This was all too happening to fast for her. "You've been out of prison for three months. We've been dating for two. Do you really think this is such a good idea?"

"We were only together for a month before we found out you were pregnant," he reminded her. "And we were together for five when I proposed the first time. Going slow and steady isn't really our style." He squeezed her hand. "Marry me, AJ. Be my wife again."

Her tears mixed with the raindrops on her cheeks as he slid the ring onto her finger. "Is this really happening?" she whispered. Her ring finger had been cold and naked for three years.

"Only if you want it to," he whispered back, rising to his feet. "Will you marry me again, baby?"

Her answer was to press a searing, open-mouthed kiss to his lips. He could feel the cool raindrops on his skin turning to fire as he kissed her back, closing his hands around her waist as she threw her arms around his neck. "Yes," she hissed against his mouth. "_Yes_." She had never needed him more than she did now, in this moment. "Now take me." She jumped up to secure her legs around his waist. His insecurities, her insecurities… none of them mattered now, as he carried her up to the back porch. She was his again- his forever, his always.

He could feel his own intense desire pressing against her as her back hit the wall of the house. He let out a low, primal growl as her hand snaked between them, reaching into his jeans and encasing him in warmth. She stroked him lovingly, feeling his length growing with each ministration of her hand. He was white hot against her palm, burning for her. Groaning again, he bit hard into her exposed collar bone, desperate for some relief for his own frustration.

He anchored her to the wall with his waist and one hand, freeing the other to dive beneath her shirt. She gasped, her own hand weakening at its mission as his own closed around one of her tender breasts. He was merciless, her core clenching in anticipation as her nipple peaked between his skillful fingers. She was putty in his knowing hands, and he was a master at playing her body like a fiddle.

The continuing rain that soaked them both did nothing to still their passion. The heat radiating from their bodies kept the cold at bay, each drop that landed on their skin seemingly turning to steam instead. He could feel himself about to burst against her, his whole being in desperate need of feeling her again. "I need to be inside you," he whispered fiercely, his breath hot in the shell of her ear. "Now."

She started fighting with his belt, hastily unbuckling it and unzipping his fly. He slid his jeans down just far enough down for him to slip out. He was glad she was wearing a pair of his boxers- it made it effortless to push the thin layer of fabric aside, allowing him to push his throbbing length between her moistened walls. She gasped, breath hitching in her throat she felt him hit the sweetest spot within her.

The thunderous downpour drowned out their cries and moans as their slick bodies moved in unison. Her back smacked against the wall behind her with his thrusts, his hips rolling against hers as he heaved inside her. "More," she begged, sinking her teeth into his shoulder. "Faster. Harder. Please."

He gave into her desires, needing them just as much as he did. He could feel the bubble of pleasure welling up inside him as he pierced her again and again, her ankles locking around his lower back. Her whole body quaked and quivered for him while she breathed his name into his ear. "Phil," she whimpered, over and over. "Oh, Phil. You feel so… so good. I'm so… I… I…" Her cries heightened as she hit her sweet, glorious release, her nails digging into his shoulders as her back arched against him. Tears slid from beneath her closed lids, the light exploding behind her eyes too much to bear.

Her golden flesh shivering in ecstasy around him coaxed him to his own peak. A strangled, throaty groan escaped him as he spilled himself inside her, his whole body stiff. Bathed in warmth, it took him a few moments to realize that she was crying, and that some of the drops on his cheek weren't coming from the sky. "AJ," he whispered, "you're crying, baby. What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" He was suddenly worried that, in his passion, he'd been too rough.

"No, no," she murmured back. "You didn't hurt me. You… healed me."

A few moments later he sat up against the wall, AJ sitting in his lap and curled against his chest. He cradled her against him delicately as they watched the rain, enjoying the brisk air and the comfortable silence between them. "I'm never leaving you again," he said finally. "This is forever this time."

"Promise?" she whispered.

He kissed her forehead. "Promise."


	18. Chapter 18

The kids were thrilled to find Punk making pancakes in the kitchen the next morning. Yesterday's tantrums forgotten, they came crashing down the stairs and attached themselves to either of his legs. He laughed heartily, putting his spatula down and turning the stove temperature down to embrace his children. "Hey, the gang's all here," he said warmly, crouching down to their level.

"Daddy's here, Daddy's here!" Sarah exclaimed. She turned her head sideways to stare at Phillip. "See? I _said _Daddy was gonna be back. I _told _you!"

Punk frowned at his son. "You didn't think I was coming back?" he asked quietly.

Phillip released his grip on his father's leg, backing up a little. "You left before," he muttered woefully. The hurt in his eyes was evident.

"Aw, buddy, that was… a long time ago," Punk whispered, reaching out to stroke his cheek. "I'm never leaving again, you got that?"

"Promise?" Phillip asked, his lower lip sticking out in a pout.

"Promise," AJ piped up, sliding off her chair and joining her family on the floor of the kitchen. She smiled broadly at her children. "What would you two think about Daddy coming to live with us?"

Sarah's eyes widened at her mother, bright green orbs twinkling at her. "Really?" she breathed.

"Really," Punk echoed with a broad smile. "Mommy and Daddy are getting married again. And I think I know just who's carrying the rings, and who's carrying the flowers."

"Will you be here to tuck us in?" Phillip asked excitedly, standing on his toes. "And bring us to school? And eat with us? And play with us? And… and…" His hopeful voice tapered off as he grinned at his parents, as though he were imagining his life with both his parents under one roof again. Sarah didn't remember life with their father. And while technically, neither did Phillip, he knew enough to know what he'd been missing all of these years. To finally have it all back… to this thrilled toddler, it was his greatest dream come true.

"All of it," Punk answered. He kissed the tops of his kids' heads, before standing up with AJ, kissing her, too. Then he turned back to the stove, grabbing the spatula. "Now let's finish these pancakes."

* * *

This time around, Punk was determined to give AJ the wedding she deserved, even though she kept assuring him it wasn't necessary. "We can just use the backyard again," she told him, "or go to the courthouse or something. I don't need anything big and flashy, baby. All I need is to be married to you again. Don't stress over it, okay?"

But Punk insisted. "Our last one was rudely interrupted," he said. "I want it to be better this time. I wasn't thinking of anything outrageous, either. I just want you to feel like the princess you are." He stroked her cheek gently, brushing the pad of his thumb over her smooth skin.

"Self-rescuing princess," she corrected him teasingly, leaning into his palm. She still didn't want him to have a headache over their wedding, but she wouldn't argue with him anymore. If he wanted to make everything perfect for her, she would let him. After three years of raising their children alone, longing for him every night in their empty bed, she (a little shamefully) thought she deserved it now.

They didn't keep the news of their engagement secret for very long. After telling Colt, Zack, Kaitlyn, and Kofi, the news spread like wildfire. It wasn't long before their phones were ringing off the hook, everyone begging to know the date and the details and anything else they could squeeze out of the newly betrothed-to-be couple. But Punk merely waved them all off, telling everyone they would receive the information they so desired soon enough.

After some careful research, the two of them decided on a venue- a mom and pop bed and breakfast, located just outside of the city. Their backyard and garden were beautiful, especially in the spring, with roses and lilies and tulips in full bloom. AJ fell in love with the place as soon as she saw it, and that sealed the deal for Punk. He booked it a month and a half away for the middle of May, watching from the office window as she danced about beneath the sleepily drifting petals.

As AJ set about writing up invitations to send out, Punk could only sit back and marvel at her excitement. The constant gray and violence of prison had taught him to appreciate the beauty of life, and despite his usual sarcastic wit, he did his best to take it all in. Nothing was more beautiful to him than the sweet, genuine smile on her face as she planned her wonderful wedding. She looked like she was floating along on a dream. All he wanted was for that smile to never, ever leave her.

* * *

"I can't wait to marry you again," AJ whispered to him one night, curling against his solid, protective body. "It's going to be perfect."

Punk smiled, kissing her forehead. "As long as I'm staring across the aisle at you, it will be," he said.

She was silent for a moment, delicately running her fingertips up and down her chest. "Are you still having nightmares?" she whispered finally. "About Jake? And Sam?"

She felt his body stiffen, his chest tightening beneath her hand. "Sometimes," he admitted quietly, looking away. Jake's cold, lifeless eyes and blood-flecked mouth flashed before him. He blinked hard, trying to erase the horrifying image from his mind. "Not as often anymore… but when I do, they're pretty bad." He remembered just the other night, dreaming again of Sam plunging his sharpened toothbrush into him and dragging it mercilessly across his stomach. The memory sent a cold shiver down his spine, his stomach jumping a little.

"I didn't upset you, did I?" she asked with a frown. "I just wanted to make sure you were feeling all right. I'm sorry." She started to shrink away.

"No, baby, don't worry," he said quickly. "It's all right. I'm glad you asked." He smiled, squeezing her shoulder encouragingly. "No more secrets, remember?"

"No more secrets," she echoed in agreement with nod. Idly running a hand over his hair, she thought for a moment. "Are you ever… scared?"

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Scared of what?"

"Sam," she answered, lacing her fingers with hers. "Do you ever worry?"

This time, he was able to shake his head confidently. "No way," he said firmly. "That fucker is behind bars, where he belongs. He's not going anywhere."

But across the country, in a dank cell in New Jersey, a man in a blue prison-issue jumpsuit received an envelope from a guard. Stamped across the papers inside was the date for his upcoming parole hearing. The man grinned broadly at the papers, setting them down beside him on his bunk. He reached over to the table, where an old newspaper article lay. It was weathered and tattered, but he could still make out the headline: "Former WWE Wrestler Released From Prison." A black and white photo of a tattooed man embracing his friend in the parking lot was positioned just below the text.

"I'm coming for you, _Punk_," Sam whispered, crumpling the article in his hands.


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's note: Sorry for the delay in updates everyone. I've been sick. :( But here's some fluffy wedding stuff for you. Enjoy chapter 19!**

* * *

"I can't believe you're getting married," Colt teased. "_Again_."

Punk laughed, glancing over his shoulder at his best friend. "One of these days," he said calmly, "you're going to find a woman who will tolerate you for long enough to become your girlfriend. And when you do, I'm going to give you so much shit for it, you'll drown."

Colt merely howled with laughter in reply. "Come here, asshole," he said when finally recovered enough to speak, waving him forward. "Let me fix your bowtie. It's crooked."

"Aw, darling, I didn't know you cared," Punk replied mockingly.

The two stood before the mirror in Punk's hotel room at the bed and breakfast. Somewhere else in the quaint building, he knew AJ was getting ready, too. He imagined her standing before the full-length mirror, checking the folds of her simple, fitted white dress, or redoing her makeup, or brushing her hair. Or maybe she was sitting at the edge of her bed, just thinking about what lay ahead. He wondered how her night had been, if she'd lay awake and stared at the ceiling as he had. They had been apart since the previous day, as Punk was determined to do everything right this time around.

"Where are Phillip and Sarah?" he asked as Colt fixed his bowtie. "Are they dressed yet?"

"They're downstairs with Zack," Colt replied. "Don't worry. Kaitlyn made sure they're ready to go."

"Then let's get down there," Punk said. "If my son is anything like me, and I'd like to think that he is, he's probably fidgeting in his suit like mad." As he and Colt made their way to the garden, he couldn't help but smile. It was really happening again- after everything they'd been through, after everything they'd endured and sacrificed and missed over the last several years, he was finally going to marry the love of his life again. But a small, cruel voice in the back of his head told him that he didn't deserve this.

_Look at yourself, _the voice whispered. _Stuffed into a monkey suit again. You're just a punk from a shitty neighborhood in Chicago. How the hell did you manage to seduce a beautiful woman, and trick her into marrying you, twice? Get real. Go back to living a sarcastic bachelor life before you hurt her again._

_Stop, _he snapped at himself. _I love AJ. She's the mother of my children and today I'm marrying her again. I deserve this. We both do._

"You okay?" Colt asked as they weaved through the rows of flowers. They were almost to the clearing, where the wedding guests waited.

Punk shook his head quickly, attempting to free his mind of the questions and doubts that plagued him. "I'm great," he said firmly, a broad smile spreading across his face. "I'm getting married today."

Colt clapped a hand on his best friend's shoulder. "That you are," he replied with a smile.

They finally reached the clearing. The light was slightly hazy, framed with drifting petals and a sweet scent emanating from the blossoms that surrounded the area. There were four rows of white chairs on either side of the aisle, populated by eagerly waiting friends and family. There were two noticeably empty chairs at the front of the left side; Punk sighed at the sight of them as he and Colt made their way up the aisle. Those seats were reserved for AJ's parents. They'd sent out invitations to them, and AJ had called them several times, but both of them adamantly refused to attend. They were firmly against her relationship with Punk.

Zack, Kaitlyn, Kofi, and Chris were waiting for them at the altar, standing beneath the canopy. "Getting married again," Chris said mockingly, shaking his head with a smile. "Never thought I would see the day. Again, that is."

"You weren't even here the first time," Kofi reminded him. "Too busy being a rock star, were you?"

"Oh, stop it," Punk said with a laugh, shoving both of them playfully. "I got enough of that earlier from Colt. I don't need this from you assholes, too."

"We can't help it," Zack teased. "Are you sure you're ready for this again? You know, the breakfasts in bed, cards, flowers, and the whole deal? I don't know if it suits you, bro."

"More than ready," Punk assured him. He couldn't wait to see his beautiful bride in a flowing white dress once again. He continued to make wisecracks and well-timed digs with his friends, but he couldn't stop staring down at his left hand. His ring finger was bare, but it wouldn't be for much longer.

* * *

A slow, dreamy piano melody began to play. The first person to make their way down the aisle was Sarah. She was wearing the pristine, white flower girl dress her mother and Kaitlyn picked out for her, her wavy brown hair tied into two braids that hung down on either side. She stepped out onto the roll of white carpet, toeing the edge of it nervously with her shoe. With an encouraging wave of her father's hand she proceeded, gaining confidence as she spread rose petals about from her tiny wicker basket. By the time she reached the altar she was giggling in delight, oblivious to both the videographer and the photographer that followed her.

Next was Phillip. True to his legacy he was shifting a little in his suit, his tiny bowtie matching Punk's. But he flashed his winning smile all the same, the mischievous grin that reminded every guest of his father. He held a small pillow in front of him proudly, two gold bands resting on its surface. As he went to join his sister and father, he couldn't contain his excitement. Mom and Dad were going to be living with him again! He couldn't wait to watch movies on the couch together, eating popcorn, running to their bed during thunderstorms…

All the while, AJ watched from behind the trees as her children made their way down the aisle. Part of her still couldn't believe this was really happening. After casting each other aside so long ago, was she really getting a second chance at forever? She looked down at thin, pearly tresses of her dress; it was true. This was her wedding, and the sweet, almost dizzying scent that tickled her nose promised her it would be everything she'd hope it would be.

Finally, the dramatic swell of the bridal march began to play. "Ready to go?" the man beside her asked.

"Thank you for doing this, Paul," she whispered with a smile as she took his outstretched arm.

He just smiled back. "Let's do this," he said. After her parents' refusal to attend, she wept at the idea of having no one to walk her down the aisle. But it didn't take Punk long to come up with the current plan. Paul Heyman giving her away made sense to both of them. He was one of the most prominent father figures in both of their lives, and he was more than willing to give her away to the man he'd help raise up from the indies.

Her eyes were glued right to Punk's as she and Paul headed down to the altar. Out of the corner of her vision she spotted the empty seats that should have been occupied by her mother and father. Normally, thinking about how two of the most important people to her couldn't put their own feelings aside long enough to support their daughter on the most important day of her life would bring her to tears… but not today. Today was her day. Their day.

* * *

The sight of her in her flowing, immaculate dress was enough to take his breath away. Suddenly, they were the only two people in the clearing, gazes locked with unfettered love between them. The light breeze blowing through the foliage gently ruffled the waves of her perfectly styled hair, settling them back down to frame her dimpled cheeks. The genuine, excited smile that she wore was the most beautiful part of her entire ensemble.

The world shifted back into focus as she reached the altar, smiling down at her son and daughter on either side of her. She tilted her chin to look up at him as he lifted the veil from in front of her face. In that moment, he swore to himself that nothing would come between them ever again. She was his forever now, and this time, forever was for real.

"Ready?" he whispered.

"Ready," she whispered back.


	20. Chapter 20

_"Do you, April, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?"_

_"I do," she replied proudly, her smile a mile wide._

_"And do you, Phillip, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?"_

_"As long as I live?" he echoed, grinning from ear to ear. "Longer." His sparkling eyes drifted back to hers. "I do. Forever."_

Sweet, giddy laughter bubbled from AJ's lips as Punk spun her back into his arms. "I didn't know you danced like this!" she said, her hands falling around his shoulders.

"I don't!" he announced. "I'm just winging it." He grinned as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Come on! This is fun." A warm, even-tempo tune played around them as they spun about in the courtyard of the bed and breakfast, other couples dancing around them. To their left, Sarah was allowing Zack to twirl her round and round; on the other side, Phillip was trying his best to waltz with one of Paul's daughters. This got an amused chuckle from his newly married parents. "Look at him! Four years old, and he's already going after older women."

"He's going to be such a handful when he starts dating," AJ agreed with a smile.

It was well into the early evening now, and the reception was going in full swing. Some guests were dancing; some were eating from the buffet table that was set out; and Colt, in true form, was hitting on (and presumably striking out with) one of AJ's cousins. Punk was thrilled with how everything turned out so far. It was going exactly as he planned- the perfect day. AJ finally had the fairytale wedding she'd always dreamed of, and the swell his heart got from watching her enjoy it was one of the most incredible feelings he'd ever experienced.

As he leaned forward to dip AJ, he felt a light tap on his back. He straightened her back up and turned around, where he couldn't help but laugh. "Just when I thought my wedding was perfect," he said, shaking his head. "What brings you to my corner of the planet, Hunter? It must be awfully important, considering you weren't invited…"

"I invited him," Paul announced, joining them in the center of the courtyard. "I couldn't possibly think of a better wedding present than this."

"Well!" Punk said happily, spreading his arms out. "And what a present it is, Paul! This is just what we've been missing all along- the presence of a man who disowned us over one silly little thing."

"Baby, calm down," AJ advised, hanging onto his arm. "I'm sure he's just here to congratulate us." While Hunter's appearance didn't please her, either, she was determined for absolutely nothing to ruin her enjoyment of her wedding day. Not after the disaster the first time around.

"Put away the talons, Punk," Hunter advised, holding up his hands in surrender. "It's good to see you, too. Look, I'm not here to reopen any old wounds or piss you off on your wedding day. A week ago, Paul gave me a call, and got me thinking. So I'm here to make both of you an offer."

"An offer," Punk echoed suspiciously, raising an eyebrow. If the trial and prison had taught him anything, it was to withhold trust until he was given a good reason not to.

"Yeah, an offer," Hunter repeated with a nod. "I'll be honest. There's been a gaping hole in our roster that we haven't been able to fill, ever since you… left. There's no one in this world quite like you, and the world of wrestling is hurting for their favorite loudmouth. And the diva's roster is still pretty thin, too. We could use you guys again. Both of you."

The utter shock was evident on both of their faces, with jaws slackened and eyes widened. "You're kidding," Punk said, his skepticism gone.

"Really?" AJ whispered, her eyes twinkling with childish wonder. She was positive now that she was going to wake up at any moment. Surely there was no way she could be gifted with the perfect wedding to the love of her life, and have her dream job dangled in front of her once more, all in the same day. This had to be some sort of cruel trick her subconscious was playing on her.

But it wasn't a dream. "Really," Hunter confirmed. "We want you back. The company is prepared to offer you both three year contracts, with an increase on your previous salaries."

"I don't know," Punk muttered uncertainly. "Things are different now, Hunter. I'm 38 years old. I have two kids. I just got married again." He wondered if could even handle that lifestyle anymore.

"Yes!" AJ blurted out, taking no time to think it over.

Punk laughed, her eagerness was so purely her. "You really want to do it?" he asked, squeezing her hand. "But what about the kids?"

"You would have your bus back," Hunter interjected. "So traveling won't be a problem. And they're still in preschool, right? When the older one starts regular school, we can lighten AJ's schedule enough so it works out." He smiled genuinely. "We have everything worked out, guys. It's all there if you want it."

"I do!" she cried. She turned to Punk, her eyes still wide with excitement. "Oh, baby, I've missed wrestling so much. I tried to keep going when you were gone, but I just couldn't. Don't you miss it, too?"

"I do miss it," he admitted. The thought of standing in a ring again, maybe even holding a belt high above his shoulders, was enough to send a slight shiver of delight down his spine. "If you really want to do it, April… so do I. Let's do it."

"Oh, thank you!" She threw her arms around Hunter's neck, squealing with child-like joy. He laughed, embracing her as well. When they separated, he moved to shake Punk's hand.

"We'll send them out soon," Hunter promised. "Read them over. If there's anything you want to change, give me a call. If not, sign them, send them back, and we'll get the ball rolling."

"Thank you," Punk said honestly. "Really."

"Not a problem," Hunter replied. "Just… do me a favor and try not to fuck up any finishers from now on, okay?" The two smiled wryly and Hunter walked over to the buffet table to meet Stephanie.

"Wow," AJ whispered as she turned back to Punk. "I can't believe it. Is this all really happening?"

As if to confirm her suspicions, Phillip and Sarah were upon them a moment later. "Mommy!" Phillip cried. "Daddy! Uncle Zack says you're gonna wrestle again! Is it true?"

"I wanna see Daddy wrestle!" Sarah piped up hopefully. "And Mommy!" She tugged at her father's pant leg insistently. "Please?"

Chuckling, he bent down to pick up his daughter. "You will soon," he assured her. "Uncle Zack is right. Mommy and Daddy are going to wrestle again." He winked at AJ. "Now come on! I want to dance with my little princess." He spun her around in his arms, her bubbly laughter reminding him so much of her mother's. Phillip tugged at the folds of AJ's dress, wanting to dance as well.

_Like a fairytale, _AJ thought as she danced with her son. _A perfect little fairytale._


	21. Chapter 21

Punk wasn't much for island paradises; pale, heavily tattooed guys like him rarely were. Too much exposure to direct sunlight could damage his ink, and he rarely ventured out to either coast of the country for seaside outings. But for he and AJ's honeymoon (their first one; they didn't take a vacation the first time around), he decided to try something different for both of them, and he rented them a cabin on a private beach in Hawaii for five days.

AJ was ecstatic when Punk told her of their honeymoon plans. She'd been to Hawaii before, but it had only been for WWE events, and she never got to enjoy all that the islands had to offer during the brief trips. "I can't believe you're taking me to Hawaii!" she exclaimed, pouring over the brochure. "But won't the sun mess with your tattoos?"

He just smiled at her. "I'm packing a lot of sunscreen," he told her.

The day after the wedding, they dropped the kids off with one of Punk's sisters. That part was hard for AJ; she'd never been away from either of her children that long, and Sarah's wails of protest as they pulled out of the driveway didn't help. "I feel so bad," she muttered, turning to glance out the back windshield as they drove away. "I hate leaving them."

"They'll be fine," Punk assured her, squeezing her hand. The idea of being away from his children for nearly a week didn't sit well with him, either; the last time he'd been separated from them for that long, he was away for three long, miserable years. "Don't worry. We're gonna have a great time this week, April. I promise."

* * *

"Oh, it's beautiful!" AJ squealed.

Punk paid the cab driver and shouldered their bags, slamming the lid of the trunk shut. "You like it?" he asked with a grin, joining her on the walkway down to the cabin.

She didn't answer him for a moment, taking everything in. The sidewalk sloped down a sand dune to the cabin, which sat several hundred yards back from the water. It was a quaint, one bedroom little cottage, made in the old log cabin style. It had a porch, too, framed by palm trees. The next cabin was more than a mile down the beach; the only sound they could was the crash of the waves against the shore. The fading late afternoon light cast a dim glare over the beach. "It's perfect," she said finally, whirling around to embrace him. "Let's try the water!" She grabbed the key from his pocket and ran down to the door.

"Wait up!" he called after her, chuckling. "I'm dragging the bags, here." By the time he caught up with her she was already inside, turning on the lights.

"I need my bag," she told him as he set the bags down. "My bathing suit is in there. I just _have _to try that water!" She unzipped the top compartment and pulled a black bikini out. "Here, you change, too." She flipped through the clothes packed into his bag until she found his swim shorts, tossing them at him playfully. He didn't even have time to respond before she began stripping off her clothes, letting them fall to the floor around her.

He could only stand back and laugh as she shimmied into her bikini. "Tie this for me?" she asked, facing her back to him and holding the ties out behind her.

"Aw, babe," he said teasingly as he took the straps in his hands. "You can't just come to me like this. I'll be tempted to take the whole thing off…"

"No ideas, mister," she warned lightly. "Last night wasn't enough for you?"

"One night will _never _be enough for me," he warned her with a grin, kissing the back of her neck.

She chuckled, leaning back into his embrace for only a moment. "You'll have plenty of time to do whatever you want later," she assured him. "I want to go swimming."

"Whatever I want, huh?" he asked as he tied the straps for her. "Nowyou're giving me ideas." He spun her around to face him, smiling. She smiled back, kissing the tip of his nose before bending down to grab the sunscreen from her bag. She applied a thin layer all over her body, exaggerating her motions purposely as she rubbed the lotion in. She was teasing him; he knew she was.

"I'm going to get you back for this," he promised as she tossed the bottle of sunscreen to him. "Just you wait." He turned to balance on a nearby chair, covering every inch of his ink in the protective lotion. Even in the rapidly fading light, he was taking no chances with his precious body artwork. By the time he got out to the porch, she was already gone, having taken off across the sand toward the water.

"Come on!" she called over her shoulder, flashing him a twinkling smile. "Can't keep up, baby? You aren't getting _old_, are you?"

"Oh, that's it!" he yelled after her. "Now you're gonna get it!" He sprinted after her, following her trail of giggles down to the shore. He seized her just as she reached the water, and they both tumbled back into the waves in a fit of laughter.

"Punk!" she squealed, trying desperately dodge his hands, but it was hopeless, as he had her captive in his grasp. His fingers played up and down her ribcage, eliciting howls of laughter from her as they rolled around in the surf.

"Could an old man do this?" he teased, continuing to tickle her. He couldn't get enough of that beautiful laughter. It was the sweetest music he'd ever heard. Soon, the two of them ran out breath, lying back on the sugar soft sand at the top of the shore. The edge of broken waves lapped against their feet. He turned to prop himself up on his side, sand falling from his arm.

"That was fun," she said with a smile, turning her head to look at him. Wet strands of hair fell in front of her face, beads of water between them gleaming in the dying sunlight. She was silent for a moment, digging a tiny hole in the sand next to her. "Do we really deserve all this?" she then asked quietly.

"Of course we do," he replied. He reached over to move the strands away, so he could see her eyes sparkle at him. "I might not, being the loudmouth little punk that I am, but I know you sure do."

She chuckled. "You're too much sometimes," she said, twisting the wedding ring displayed proudly on her finger. "_Husband_."

"Ah, that's right," he said with a nod. "We're married again, aren't we?" His hand closed around her wedding band. "We should consummate that, shouldn't we?"

"We already did!" she reminded him with another laugh. "Or was last night just too mind-blowing for you to remember?" She winked.

"Oh, I remember," he assured her, "but there's no harm in going again, just to make sure…" He swung his body over hers, grinning.

"Right here?" she exclaimed nervously. "Baby, I don't know. I don't want the sand to- oh! That feels so good…" He was peppering her neck with hot, drugging kisses. All thoughts of protest were abandoned as his hands traveled up and down her damp body, his fingertips seemingly turning the droplets of water into steam. Her breath hitched in her throat as his mouth settled over her collarbone, tasting sweet skin and saltwater.

"So beautiful," he muttered against her skin. The tenderness with which he stroked her cheek was enough to make her tremble. Heat flushed between her legs and her hips arched forward at him, a desperate cry for him to take her. With a low, animalistic growl, she pulled him down to her by the neck, fiercely capturing his lips with hers. One of her hands slipped into his shorts, manipulating him slowly and teasingly. Her intensity these days sometimes surprised him; she was still his sweet little spitfire, but gone was the timid AJ of the past who constantly worried about pleasing him. This AJ knew exactly what she wanted, and she wasn't afraid to take it.

God, it was such a turn on.

His knees weakened as she stroked him harder, quiet moans slipping out of him. "I want you to make love to me," she whispered into his ear, the slight pressure of his stubble against her cheek tickling her. "Right here, on this beach." Her previous reservations were long gone. She was gazing at him with lust-filled eyes, a thirst that begged to be quenched.

Already throbbing in agony in her hand, he was more than willing to give her what she so desired. He quickly yanked her bikini bottom down, tossing it aside as he opened the fly of his shorts. Giving her one last rough peck on the lips, he eagerly pushed inside her, groaning at the relief and sheer satisfaction. "Like that?" he whispered back, rocking his hips back and forth.

"Yes, baby," she moaned, locking her ankles around the small of his back. "Just like that…" He hooked his arms under hers and around her shoulders, locking her body fully to his. She expelled her heated breaths and moans into his neck, hissing his name as he thrust in and out again and again.

The sun was rapidly dipping beyond the horizon, the fiery sunset reflected in her eyes just like the passion between them. Time drifted away while he moved within her, her unfettered cries lost in the breaking waves just behind their joined bodies. Her insides were molten liquid by now, completely melted as his hipbones crashed into hers. Each jerk of his hips sent her further and further up a cliff, pulling her to that one sweet spot. If she didn't grab for purchase soon, she'd surely fall off and lose herself in him again. Her hands traveled up and down the hard, firm muscles of his back. She couldn't tell if it was water or sweat that caused her palms to slip down his skin; the ragged breaths that landed on her shoulder as he penetrated her deeper and deeper told her it was the latter.

She begged for more of him, addicted, enveloped.

He was consumed by her, swallowed up by the sweetest folds of her skin.

"I love you," he gasped as he released, finally coaxed to the brink as her walls shuddered around him. His shook with delight as he gazed down at his wife, pleased to see her own body wracked with pure pleasure. Whispers of bliss left her lips as her legs fell from his back, utterly satisfied. "I can't wait… to spend the rest of my life... here with you."

A number of years ago, had anybody asked him if he was going to settle down one day, he would have scoffed. "Only if she loves jerks," he'd reply. Her answer would have been similar- "if I can find a man who will tolerate my Harley Quinn addiction," she'd say. But neither of them were prepared to find such a perfect match in each other. And despite their years of pain and separation, nothing was standing in their way this time.

For now.


	22. Chapter 22

Both Punk and AJ thought it was a brilliant idea to return at the Money in the Bank pay-per-view.

It was perfect. Money in the Bank was the show that, several times, served as a launching pad for Punk - first when he won the briefcase, then when he won it again the next year, and finally with the career-changing match against John Cena for his first WWE championship. It was his favorite pay-per-view; he was ecstatic. He would be this year's surprise entrant in the ladder match for the briefcase.

AJ's re-debut wasn't going to be any less spectacular. She was going to be entered in a battle royale to be the number one contender for the diva's championship earlier in the show. She would finally get to compete again- she'd even wrestle Kaitlyn again, soon enough.

She couldn't believe how everything was falling into place again. There would be no more fading into obscurity for either of them. Finally, she was getting it all back- her career, her family, her husband. And so was he. She couldn't wait to get back in the ring again, to feel the ropes on her back as she bounced off them, to slam an opponent down on the canvas. It was going to be perfect.

Per Hunter's instructions, their reemergence into the wrestling world was to be a tightly kept secret. There could be no leaks, no rumors. But they needed to get back into wrestling somehow. Being physically fit (which both of them still were, without a doubt) was one thing; being in ring shape was another matter entirely. So as soon as they got back from their honeymoon, Punk and AJ began to secretly train and Punk's old school, Steel Dominion, after lessons had ceased for the day. Ace Steel gave them a key to the place, and after hours they would bring the kids and roll around in the ring with Colt. They had to work hard; they had only until the middle of July to get their bodies ready again.

While the training was strenuous, it was easier than either of them expected it to be. Their bodies remembered these movements- Irish Whips, DDTs, missile drop kicks, bulldogs, elbow drops. "It's like riding a bicycle," AJ remarked one day. "You just have to start pedaling again."

AJ's training was a little more difficult than Punk's. She usually only had her husband and Colt to spar with; Kaitlyn couldn't come to town too often, and no one else could be trusted not to blow the whistle on their big return. This resulted in her mostly flying off the top rope, as she couldn't lift either of them. But she made do with what she had.

At first, Punk was hesitant to perform the GTS again. He came up with plenty of excuses not to use it- it was too dangerous. It brought up too many bad memories. The crowd would associate it with the trial and what happened to Daniel, and would never be able to look past it. But it didn't take long for AJ and Colt to convince him otherwise. "This move is _you_, dude," Colt argued one night, after trying to persuade Punk to use it on him.

"You can't be CM Punk without the GTS," AJ added from just beyond the ropes.

"Can't I just go back to the Pepsi Plunge?" he asked with a hopeful laugh.

Colt shook his head. "No. Fireman's carry. Now. No one will care about what happened a few years ago. They'll just care that you're back. Now do it!"

After a final moment of uncertainty, Punk lifted his best friend over his shoulders. Taking a deep breath, he lowered Colt down and brought his knee up. His whole body froze as Colt flopped onto the canvas, motionless for a moment.

"Shit," he said finally with a harsh laugh, getting to his feet. "I forgot how much that can sting sometimes." He smiled. "See? All four limbs intact."

Punk breathed a sigh of relief, looking back at AJ with a smile. "Maybe I can do this after all," he said.

* * *

"Daddy, I wanna go play in the ring!" Phillip exclaimed, tugging at the bottom of Punk's jacket.

"You can't right now, buddy," Punk replied, looking down at him. "People are getting here for the show. The ring's gotta be empty."

"_Please_?" Phillip begged in earnest, flashing his best smile.

But his father only shook his head sadly. "Maybe before RAW tomorrow, if no one's using it," he offered, ruffling his son's hair. "Where's your sister?" A dejected Phillip took off toward the catering table, where Sarah bounced happily on Zack's knee. AJ stood a few feet away, talking to Kaitlyn.

"Ready for this?" Punk asked as he came up behind them, putting an arm around AJ's shoulders.

"I don't know," AJ admitted. "It's been a long time since I've wrestled in front of this many people." She shuddered at the thought. "What if I suck?"

"You won't suck!" Kaitlyn piped up. "Don't be stupid. You're great!" She squeezed her best friend's shoulder encouragingly.

"Listen to her," Punk advised. "It's gonna be awesome."

AJ laughed. "And you're not worried about yourself at all?"

"Me?" he scoffed. "Hell no. I'm ready to go at the ripe age of 38." He frowned suddenly, looking down. "Fuck. I'm 38. This is weird. I feel so old."

"That's because you _are _old!" Zack called from the other side of the table.

"If you weren't holding my daughter, I'd throw something at you," Punk said evenly, staring him down. "You're a lucky man right now."

By 8:30, the kids were all but asleep. AJ put them to sleep in the bus, stationing the driver as their temporary guardian. Leaving them alone didn't worry her too much- it was their old driver, from before the trial, and it was a man they trusted. Unencumbered, she was now able to focus on her impending match. It was coming up soon, and a nervous excitement was welling up inside her. She wasn't sure she was ready for this.

The moment came too soon. "AJ, you're on in five," a trainer called as he passed by.

"This is it," Punk said happily, massaging her shoulders gently. "You can do it, baby. Make me proud."

She was the last to make her entrance the woman's battle royale. The crowd exploded for her; her heart swelled as 17,000 people cheered for her, welcoming her back to the world she'd missed so much. All of the nerves she'd been feeling until now were gone. They weren't rejecting her- far from it. They couldn't wait to see her wrestle again, and she couldn't wait to show them what she had in store.

* * *

If they were excited for AJ, the crowd went insane for Punk.

The audience's roars were deafening when the static that preceded his music played. People leapt out of their seats; children screamed; grown men shouted for him. In all of his years of wrestling, the only time he'd ever gotten a reaction anywhere close to this was during his entrance at Money in the Bank 2011, when he was challenging John Cena for the title for the very first time. It made his heart swell. He took a moment to simply stand in front of the Titantron, surveying the arena with glistening eyes. It was really happening. He was really back.

Adrenaline rushed through his veins as he took to one knee, drawing a heart on the stage for the first time in years, then tapped his wrist. "_What time is it_?" he called with fervor, cupping his taped hands around his mouth.

"_It's clobbering time_!" the crowd shouted back.

His grin was a mile wide as he threw a triumphant fist out. He headed down the ramp to the ring, where five other men waited to battle him for the red briefcase that was suspended from the rafters. They were eager to face him, and everyone was dying to see it happen.

He was home.

* * *

"Wow, what a fucking rush!" Punk crowed as he stumbled through the curtain, body shining in layer of sweat. "Damn. I can't believe I can still do that!"

"You were great, baby!" AJ exclaimed, running to embrace him.

"That was insane," Kofi agreed, slapping him on the back. "Nice ladder to the face, by the way. Real smooth, buddy!"

"Hey, it worked, didn't?" Punk asked with a cheesy grin.

"Let me take that for you, Mr. Money in the Bank," Kaitlyn teased, grabbing the briefcase from his weathered hands and setting it down.

AJ pressed a long kiss to his cheek, not caring about the sweat; she still needed a shower, too. "Let's get out of here," she suggested. "I'm beat."

"See you guys at RAW, bright and early!" Zack called after the couple as they sauntered down the hallway, still floating on a natural high.

"That was amazing!" AJ cried as they headed out to the employee parking lot, hoping to beat the post-show traffic. "I can't wait to do it again tomorrow. I'm so glad we came back!"

Punk smiled at her. "Me too," he said, squeezing her shoulder. He couldn't be happier; he was exhausted, but it was a great feeling. His muscles burned in the best way and he knew hers did, too. This was just the beginning of a new chapter for their whole family.

They rounded the corner and weaved through the row of buses to get to their own. He tugged open the door to find their driver, James, lounging in his seat with his eyes half-closed. "Hey, boss," James said lazily, sitting up. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah, let's get back to the hotel," Punk replied.

"How were the kids?" AJ asked, closing the door behind her.

"Not a peep out of them since you left," James answered. "Great kids."

Punk sighed heavily, sinking back into the couch. He couldn't wait to shower, change, and get some food into his system. And maybe, if AJ wasn't too tired, they could celebrate by-

"_Punk_!" she shrieked. "They're gone!"

He jumped off the couch immediately, rushing to the small bedroom at the back of the bus. "What do you mean, gone?" he replied frantically.

"I mean they're gone!" she sobbed, gesturing wildly at the bed. It was empty, the sheets rumpled from where they once slept. "Where are they? Where did they go? Where are my babies?" Terrified tears streamed down her cheeks, her heart thudding rapidly against her ribcage. She sank to her knees onto the carpet, looking up at Punk pleadingly.

His blood had run cold as time slowed to a stop around him. "James!" he shouted, running to the front of the bus. "Where are my kids?" He snatched his befuddled driver out of his seat, seizing him by the collar. "Where are they? _Where are my kids_?"

* * *

**And the fairytale is over. *wink***


	23. Chapter 23

At first, AJ was certain she'd made a mistake. Surely, with her fatigue from wrestling and Punk's ever-present win high, they just weren't thinking clearly. They had to be around here _somewhere_. But as she checked the closet, the bathroom, and even under the bed with no results, she felt her heart rate rising once again. Her children weren't on this bus. They were gone. With all of the blood in her body rushing to her ears, she could still hear the commotion coming from the other side.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down!" James was crying, trying to jerk free of Punk's grasp. He was being held up against the side of the bus, his feet dangling a few inches off the ground.

"Where the fuck are my kids?" Punk demanded again. His eyes were wide with rage and fear as they bored into James's. He was oblivious to AJ's cries, coming from somewhere behind him.

"Please, let me down!" James begged desperately. "I never saw them leave and I didn't take them anywhere! Let me go, man!"

"How could they have disappeared if you were here the whole time?" Punk snapped, lifting him up higher. "Did you leave? Huh? Did you fucking leave them in this bus by themselves? Fucking tell me!"

"I… I may have stepped out for a smoke," James admitted hesitantly. "But I was only gone for a few minutes, I swear! They were asleep and I was just outside, and-"

"_You son of a bitch_!" Punk slammed him back against the wall of the bus again, this time placing his hand around James's throat. He had never truly understood what seeing red meant until that moment, holding his driver's life at his mercy while furious words escaped him in rapid bursts. "You left… my children… alone in this bus… _to go smoke a fucking cigarette_?" James writhed in his grip, gasping for air that wouldn't come as Punk squeezed tighter and tighter.

"Punk, stop!" AJ cried, her pleas finally reaching him as she yanked at his arm. "Let him go!"

"He left them alone!" Punk shouted, his eyes wild as his head whipped around to look at her. "We trusted him to watch them and this motherfucker left him alone to take a goddamn smoke break!"

She wasn't much of the mind to deny the neglectful driver his punishment, either, but she knew this wasn't the way. "You're going to kill him, Punk! You're choking him!"

But her assertions did nothing to quiet his revenge. "He deserves it!" he snapped. He poured his rage into James, as though causing this defenseless young man pain would somehow bring them back.

"We don't have time for this!" she reminded him, grabbing at his arm again. "We have to find them, Punk! Now! _Let him go_!"

This finally got through to him. She was right- he was wasting time. He released James reluctantly, watching as the driver crashed to the floor and gasped to regain his breath. His eyes were bloodshot as he looked up fearfully at his boss. "Come on," Punk growled, grabbing him by the sleeve and yanking him to his feet. "You're coming with us."

* * *

"Hey, shouldn't we bring this back to Punk?" Zack asked as he picked up the iconic red briefcase, left discarded on the floor. "Kind of seems like a pretty important thing to leave behind… I would never just let my internet title lying around."

"Your internet title isn't real," Kaitlyn jeered.

"But my U.S. title sure is!" Zack shot back. "I don't see anything around _your_ waist, missy."

"Eh, he'll get the briefcase back tomorrow," Kofi replied nonchalantly, cutting off their taunts with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry about it. Did you shower yet? Come on, let's go get our stuff and get out of here. I'm starving."

"I've already got my bag," Kaitlyn announced. "I'll bring the car around." Kofi tossed her the keys and she turned to head to the parking lot, but stopped dead in her tracks only a few paces later. She'd nearly walked straight into Punk, AJ, and their red-faced driver.

"Punk?" Kofi asked with a frown, studying his clearly distressed friend. "What's wrong?" Something was definitely up- all three of them were frazzled, sweating, and AJ was sporting tears.

"The kids," Punk gasped. "They're gone."

"What?" Kaitlyn cried, dropping her bag. "What do you mean, 'gone'? How could they be gone?"

"I mean they're gone!" Punk yelled. "They're not in the bus, and we can't find them!"

"We searched the whole parking lot," AJ sobbed, her knees buckling and threatening to give. She was leaning on Punk for support, still hyperventilating. A million possibilities were running through her overprotective mother mind, each one leading her to terrifying conclusions. _No, no, no, _she thought desperately, trying to turn her thoughts away from the worst. _This isn't happening, they're fine, they're fine, they're fine…_

"Does this place have a security office?" Punk asked frantically.

"It has to," Kofi replied. "All venues do."

"I know where it is," Zack announced. "I passed it on the way in. Come on!"

He led them all through the winding hallways of the arena, finally landing on a door near the offices. He was about to knock when Punk pushed past him, throwing the door open and barging into the room. "Are there cameras in this arena?" Punk demanded. "Tell me!"

"Whoa, whoa, what the hell?" the security officer exclaimed, bursting out of his chair. "What's going on here? What's your problem?"

"Baby, please, calm down," AJ begged tearfully, holding onto to Kaitlyn to for support. The ground was somehow too uneven beneath her feet to continue standing unassisted; the world almost didn't feel real to her anymore.

"I can't!" Punk cried. His hands were shaking uncontrollably at his sides. He couldn't stop. He couldn't calm down. Not until they figured out what was going on, until they found his babies…

"Unless any of you plan on lowering your damn voices and telling me what's going on here, you can all get out of my office," the security officer growled.

Kofi, the most level-headed out of all of them, pushed his way to the front. "Some kids are missing," he explained calmly. "They were last seen on their parents' bus in the employee parking lot. Are there cameras over that area?"

Now more receptive, the security officer nodded. "Sure, yeah," he replied quickly. He hurried over to the bank of computer monitors on his desk and looked up at them, fingers poised over his keyboard. "When did it happen?"

Punk looked over at James, who was wilting near the door. "When did you take your goddamn smoke break?" he asked, glaring at the young driver.

"A-about an-an hour ago," James stuttered in reply, unable to meet his boss's hateful gaze. "So maybe… 10:30 or so?" He shuffled his feet together awkwardly.

"Can you rewind the tape?" Kofi asked, swiftly moving between Punk and the officer. He didn't want his hot-headed friend to get out of hand again.

"Of course." The security officer entered in the time, and everyone crowded into the cramped room as one of the screens replayed the events of the last hour in the employee parking lot at high speed. "Here we are. 10:30." The camera had a perfect overview of where Punk and AJ's bus was parked, right at the front of the lot. On the monitor, they watched with baited breath as James came down the steps, letting the door swing closed behind him. He stepped around to the back of the bus and leaned against it, hands unearthing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

"Motherfucker," Punk spat with disgust, glaring back at James. "You didn't even lock the door!"

"Shhh!" Zack snapped, gripping Punk's shoulder and pointing at the screen. "Look!"

Everyone fell silent again, their attention glued to the screen. As James enjoyed his cigarette, another figure darted out from behind a few cars and rushed at the unprotected door of the bus. He tested the door and, finding it to be unlocked, eased it open and slipped inside.

"Oh my God," AJ gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth as fresh tears sprang to her eyes. "Oh my God, no… no…" This was the man! This was who took her children! She stumbled, all the blood having left her legs. Kaitlyn barely managed keep her steady, holding her devastated friend against her.

Punk was completely silent, his gaze still trained on the screen. His whole body was numb; the only sound he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears. He wanted to tear himself away from the monitor but he was frozen, watching in horror as the door to the bus opened again. There was Sarah, sleeping on this man's shoulder, and Phillip, padding along groggily behind as the man tugged him forward by the hand.

"We'll get a glimpse of him when he turns around," Kofi said encouragingly, squeezing Punk's shoulder. But the devastated father didn't respond. He knew he recognized this man somehow, and as soon as he turned to leave on the other side of the lot, Punk would see, and it would be confirmed…

His heart froze in chest. His knees shook. He started to fall back. "No," he whispered. "No… _No_!"

"Punk?" Zack asked uncertainly, moving forward to keep the older wrestler from falling.

"No!" Punk cried again. He threw one of his furious fists forward into the wall above the monitor, his knuckles crunching sickeningly against the concrete. "No, goddamn it! No!"

"Stop it!" Kofi demanded, trying to pull him back. "You're gonna hurt yourself!"

It took the combined efforts of Kofi, Zack, and Kaitlyn to pull Punk away from the wall. He fell backwards out of their grasp, falling to the floor and clutching his shaking, bloodied fist. "Baby, who is it?" AJ pleaded, crouching down next to him. "You recognize him, don't you? Who took them?"

"It's him," Punk gasped, looking up at her with desperate tears in his eyes. "It's Sam. I don't know how, but it's him. He's out and he took our babies."

AJ looked back at the screen, where the security officer had paused the tape. She looked into the dead, soulless eyes of the man who tortured her husband for three long years, and who had now taken her innocent children.


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's note: Hey guys. So there's a troll reviewer going around on AJPunk stories lately. I normally don't respond to trolls, and usually just delete the review, but this one made me laugh so hard I just had to respond. **

**'A few issues i have with this plot one is why if sam is dangerous would he be let out of prison. Two how did he find them as they are traveling by bus everywere. Third why did they get there jobs back so quickly. Also dont u think kidknapping is a little redundent now. iv read a few Ajpunk fanfictions with kidknapping and yours is better but still not original.'**

**All of your questions are answered either a) in the story or b) by using common sense but I'll answer them anyway. First, it's called parole. If you actually read the story, Sam was convicted of a drug charge, not a violent offense. Assaults in prison (like what Sam did to Punk) often aren't charged. With a little sweet talk to a parole board, a criminal can easily get released. Hundreds of dangerous inmates get released every day, because prisons are overcrowded. Second, they only started traveling on the bus again when they went from Chicago to where Money in the Bank was taking place. That's pretty obvious, as they weren't going anywhere before that. Third, they got their jobs back 'so quickly' because Triple H wanted them back. It's that simple. Fourth, there are over 250 AJPunk stories on this website. There are only so many conceivable scenarios you can put 2 people in within the confines of the real world. Yeah, plenty of stories have kidnappings. Are you going to stop watching spy movies because most of them have the spy fall in love with a female protagonist?**

**Anyway, thanks for the review. I really enjoyed it. I hope everyone else enjoys chapter 24. :) –MyChaosTheory**

* * *

_There he is, standing over him again. Only this time, it's not a sharpened toothbrush he's holding. He's got a real knife this time, and its razor sharp. He has Phillip's shirt crumpled in his grimy fist, and he's got that glinting point aimed right at the little boy's throat. He's going to do it, he's going to take Phillip away, just like he did Jake, and…_

"Punk, snap out of it!" Kofi shouted, shaking him. "Who is Sam?"

"I… he was my first cell mate," Punk choked out, eyes still on security monitor. "Drug dealer… drug user… He stabbed me. Killed my next cell mate. Had me beaten all the time. Made my life an even bigger hell than it had to be, every second I was in there." He sat up against the wall, the back of his head smacking against the concrete behind him. "Fuck, I never even knew he got out… And now, he… he took my kids… He's got my kids…" He couldn't form coherent thoughts anymore. His mumbles drifted off as he pressed his palms into his temples, trying desperately to silence the terrible thoughts in his head.

"C-call the cops," AJ stammered, her hands shaking as they gripped Punk's arm. "Call them, now! _Someone call the cops_!"

Kaitlyn already had her phone out, dialing frantically. "Yes, I need police at the Thomas and Mack Center!" she cried as soon as an operator picked up. "Two kids were kidnapped from the parking lot. Please, come quickly!"

"I'm going to the parking lot," Zack said quickly, rushing past them. "There should still be cops out there directing the traffic coming out of the arena. I know it's a long shot that we'll find anything, but they can probably seal off the exits." He darted out into the hallway and took off.

"We'll get them back," AJ muttered into her husband's ear soothingly. She knew exactly what was running through his mind right now, and as terrified as she was, she had to quell his doubts before they tore him apart again. "It's not your fault, okay? I promise. We'll get them back." She couldn't possibly know if there was any truth to her assertions, but she could already tell Punk was tumbling back into the dark chasms of his own mind. If they were going to get through this, he had to believe there was hope.

* * *

"Now, you're sure it was your former cell mate who took your children?" the police officer asked, his pencil poised over his notepad.

"Yes, I'm positive!" Punk snapped. He was rapidly losing patience with the police, having been asked the same mind-numbing questions by different officers over and over and over again. He was standing in the parking lot now, surrounded by the flashing lights of parked patrol cars and a large group of onlookers consisting of WWE employees.

"Why would he want to take your children, Mr. Brooks?" the officer asked with a frown. "I don't understand. If he hates _you_, why go after the-"

"Is it that fucking hard to comprehend?" Punk shouted, cutting him off harshly. "He wants to make me miserable and taking what I love is the best way to do it! Why are you standing here talking to me when you should be out there looking for the maniac who stole my kids?"

"We're doing the best we can, sir," the officer assured him calmly.

"_Your best isn't goddamn good enough_!"

"Phil!" AJ snapped, tugging sharply at his arm. "Stop it! I know you're scared, baby. I am, too. But this isn't helping. Come on. Let's go sit down."

"I can't sit down!" he cried, whirling around to face her. "I need to find them!"

"And what are you going to do, huh?" she challenged. "Search the streets in your tights? Question everyone you see?" He was taken aback by her abruptness, unable to reply as she fixed him with her pleading gaze. "Come on. Yelling won't do anything. Let's go calm down, and let them do their jobs."

His eyes widened at her, marveling at AJ's strength. Her ability to keep him afloat through his frantic rants, fits of rage, and immeasurable fear amazed him. She wasn't about to let him drown in his misery alone, not this time. He was silent as he allowed her to pull him away from the circle of cops and detectives. She led him back to their bus, which had long since been combed by crime scene investigators to no avail. They'd given the K-9 unit Sarah's blanket and Phillip's Wrestlemania bear to use with their search dogs, but the scent trail ended at the edge of the parking lot. Despite AJ's urgings, Punk was left with little hope. Sam had disappeared into thin air with their children, left no trace, and they had no way to find them.

* * *

A long, miserable day passed with no word from the police or from Sam. Punk couldn't believe how flippant law enforcement had been with them- "Go relax," they'd said. "We'll do our best with what we have. Let us know if you hear from the kidnapper." This didn't stop AJ or Punk from calling constantly for updates- by noon, they were ready to storm the police station. But neither their friends' constant badgering nor their own frantic attempts at contact got them any shred of information.

"How could this happen?" Punk muttered fiercely as he paced their hotel room again and again. "How did he even get out of prison? How could they be so fucking _stupid _to let him out?"

"He was paroled," AJ reminded him calmly from where she sat on the bed. Her cheeks were streaked with the outlines of dry tears, her body having cried itself dry and leaving her with nothing left to produce. She'd answered this question for him many times today.

"And it's so fucking easy to fool the parole board," he growled as he continued his journey to nowhere. He was sure he'd wear a hole in the carpet, sooner or later. "All you have to do is put on a sad face and show 'remorse'. Remorse! That fucker can fake anything. The board doesn't care. They turn unfixable convicts right back out onto the street without a second thought because the prisons are so damn overcrowded. They don't care about the people these scum are gonna hurt…"

"I just don't understand how he found us," she said quietly. "No one was supposed to know we were here! We kept it as tight a secret as he could!"

"Cops said he got out three weeks ago, right?" he asked, turning on his heel to make another pass around the room. She nodded. "Our address is in the phone book… We're not that hard to find. He must have been watching us. Following us. Waiting for the right time to make his move. And then he fucking followed us to Las Vegas… _Damn it_!" He slammed his hands on the table, so loudly that AJ jumped.

"Punk, please, calm down," she begged, getting up off the bed. "It's not your fault." She laid her hands on his arm, squeezing gently.

"It is!" he protested. "I should have been more careful! I should have known! I put you all in danger by coming back. I-" He was cut off by the sound of his phone blaring. He knew right away it wasn't anyone he knew calling- it was the ringtone he assigned to incoming numbers that weren't in his contact list. Turning away, he seized his phone immediately; surely, it was the police. They had news. But looking down at the screen, he frowned.

"What's wrong?" AJ asked.

"It's a blocked number," Punk replied.

Her eyes widened. "Answer it!" she exclaimed. "It could be-"

She didn't have to tell him twice. Heart pounding, he stabbed his finger at the answer button and put the call on speaker. "He-hello?" he stammered.

"_It's been awhile since I've heard your voice, Brooks._"

Punk nearly stumbled; the sound of the cold, frenzied voice he never thought he would have to hear again was enough to drain the blood from his body. AJ quickly caught him at the elbow to steady him, but she was shaking, too. "Is that him?" she whispered desperately, tugging at his arm. "Is it?"

He rapidly waved her into silence. "Where are my children, Sam?" he asked frantically, digging his nails into his palms to prevent an outburst. He didn't want to risk upsetting the man who held his kids' lives in his calloused, blood-drenched hands.

"Calm down, kiddo," Sam replied coolly. "No need to get in over our heads here."

"Sam, please," Punk begged, his voice breaking. "They're just kids. They haven't done anything."

"You know," Sam mused, "your boy looks just like you. You must be real proud of that, aren't you? Daddy's spitting image. But your girl, nah, she's more like that pretty wife of yours… except the eyes. Nope, those are all yours. They look mighty innocent on kids, but not you. Yours, they're smug. Pretentious. _Gloating_."

AJ swallowed hard. She could imagine them now, her precious children, huddled in the back of a dark-paneled van as they begged for their parents. What had that monster done to them? What threats had he whispered in their ears as he dragged them from their bed in the middle of the night? She wrung her hands around the bottom of her T-shirt, biting her lip and forcing her tears not to flow. She refused to let Sam hear her cry.

"What do you want from me?" Punk cried, before he could stop himself.

"I want _you_."

"Me?" Punk replied frantically. "If you want me, why did you take my kids? Just come for _me_!"

"I had to get you to meet me," Sam said evenly. "Taking these little bundles of joy was the best way to ensure that. So here's what you're going to do, Mr. Second City Saint. I'm going to give you an address. You and your wife will arrive there exactly when I tell you to. When you get there, we'll make a trade. I'll give the kids to your wife, and she'll take them and drive away. You'll stay with me. If you don't agree to my terms, I'll kill them. If you don't arrive on time, I'll kill them. If I even catch so much of a _hint _that you told the police, or that they followed you, or there is _any _deviation from this plan, I'll kill them, understand? Now, do we have an arrangement?"

"Yes," Punk answered through gritted teeth. He looked to AJ, whose face was red with discontent. She was clutching his arm as thought it were her lifeline.

"Sorry, what's that? I didn't hear you."

"We have an arrangement!"

On the other end of the line, Sam smiled. "Good."


	25. Chapter 25

_"There's a Motel 6 just outside the city. It's on 59__th__ Street and Westhill Avenue. It should take you no more than half an hour to get there from where you're staying. You should be able to get here by 1 AM. Park at the back of the lot and come to room 165. Knock twice, then come in. The door will be unlocked. Any questions?"_

_"We-we don't have a car," Punk stammered. "We came to Vegas by bus. How are we supposed to-"_

_"That's not my problem," Sam snarled. "It's 12:15, Punk. Better get moving." The line went dead._

"Whose car is this, anyway?" Punk asked. He sat awkwardly in the passenger seat, drumming his fingers nervously on his knee. He originally wanted to drive, but his hands were shaking too much to even think about safely navigating a vehicle. He'd barely been able to speak properly since the call with Sam ended. He was staring down at the dashboard now, trying to block out the darkened roads around him and keep himself from throwing up.

"Don't worry about it," AJ replied cryptically, hunched over the steering wheel. As soon as Sam hung up on them, she immediately sprang into action, rushing from the room and returning moments later with a set of car keys. She knew Punk would be too rattled to even think straight. Despite the vice grip on her heart the thought of her children being held captive by a madman gave her, she had to keep it together for the both of them. This time, it was up to her to be the strong one, and she wasn't going to let either of them down.

"I can't do this," Punk muttered frantically, his nails digging into the fabric of his jeans. Never before had he been stricken with such stomach-churning, gut-wrenching fear. Not even the threat of prison looming over his head during the trial had been able to torture him like this, ripping apart his usual casual demeanor and replacing it with nothing but dread. "What if I fuck this up, April? We could- we could lose our kids. We could-"

"Stop it!" she cried, slamming on the brakes as they came to a red light. She turned to face him, bloodshot eyes glaring into his. "We are _not _going to lose our kids, do you understand me? We're going to get them back! And I'm not losing _you, _either!"

She practically floored the car when the light finally turned green. He fell silent as they sped off into the night, trying his best to stay calm. He wondered how she managed to remain so composed, so in control of herself and their situation while their children's lives hung in the balance. But as his hand drifted toward his stomach, running across the long, angry scar, he thought he had a fairly good idea. She didn't know what Sam was capable of. Not like he did.

* * *

"What time is it?" Punk asked shakily as they pulled into the dusky parking lot, passing the half unlit neon sign. He could tell right away that this place was one of the many dingy, cash-only, no-tell motels that littered the outskirts of Vegas. Shouts and screams would be ignored here. Beyond the city, there wasn't much but desert, and the lot held few other cars. They may as well have been alone.

"12:55," AJ answered after glancing at the radio clock. She let out a small sigh of relief- they'd made it on time. Pulling the car into an empty space at the back of the lot as instructed, she shut the engine off and looked at her terrified husband. "Are you… ready?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he pressed his palms against her cheeks, bringing her forehead to touch his. His eyes were closed, smoothing his thumbs over her dried tears. "I love you," he whispered finally, opening his eyes to stare into the deep pools that had him captivated since day one. "No matter what happens, I love you. I've always loved you, and I always will. Do you understand that?"

"Yes," she whispered back, her eyes filling with tears. "I love you, too." In that moment, she didn't sense fear in him. It was his undying faith he was professing to her, his hands strong but his touch soft as his thumbs rested lightly on her pulse points. The warm, gentle sensation was enough to pour the strength she needed into her.

He pressed a sweet, gentle kiss to her lips. "Let's go," he said, pulling back from her and getting out.

Room 165 wasn't far away, but the walk across the parking lot felt like a marathon. AJ could feel her heart speeding up with every step they took. She thought she could hear everything- the sound of their feet hitting the pavement, the chirp of the crickets hiding in the bushes, the dull thud of Punk's own heart as it raced along with hers. _Just a few more steps, _she told herself. _Then you'll get your kids back. And Punk will… and Punk…_

Her morbid train of thought was silenced as they reached the door. She looked to Punk, who was taking deep breaths in an attempt to steel himself for what lay ahead. They exchanged one last brief, heavy glance before he bit his lip, raised his fist to the door, and knocked.

"Punk, is that you?" Sam called cheerfully from beyond the thin door. "Come in. You're right on time."

He pushed the door open with the edge of his shoe, the dim lights in the parking lot illuminating only the entryway of the dark room. "Where are you?" Punk called back, unwilling to cross the threshold into whatever hell Sam had prepared for them.

"I'm right where I said I would be," Sam replied calmly. "Come in. Shut the door behind you."

Taking AJ's hand firmly in his, Punk tentatively stepped inside the room. He jumped a little as AJ shut the door- they were now completely shrouded in darkness. An agonizing, sickening moment passed in complete silence, until finally there was low buzz and the lights came on.

"Wow," Sam breathed from where he sat, leaning back in a wooden chair against the far wall of the room. "Now, I've seen pictures… and I've seen her from afar when I was watching your house, but _damn, _Brooks. This wife of yours is one _fine_, _lovely, beautiful _woman. How did you manage to land a piece of ass like this?"

Punk bit his lip. "I'd say it's good to see you, Sam," he said slowly, "but I'd be lying."

His old cellmate looked just as he remembered. Stringy, short black hair, crazed blue eyes, lean limbs that sported popping veins. His long, lanky legs were crossed on the bed, balancing the front legs of his chair a few dangerous inches off the ground.

As Punk studied the man, AJ was looking rapidly around the room. It was small, weathered, and dirty, just as she would expect a room at a Motel 6 to appear… and it contained no sign of their children. "Where are they?" she squeaked, tightening her grip on Punk's hand.

"Oh, they're just _fine_, AJ," Sam assured her. "You know, I've always wondered what the 'J' in AJ stands for. I know your first name is April, but what's your middle name?"

"_Where_?" she cried, unwilling to allow him to shift the focus away from the kids. Her heart pounded- what if he'd already killed them?

"Brooks, tell your wife to fucking trust me," Sam said flippantly. "They're in the bathroom." He jerked his head to the side, beckoning at the closed door at the back of the room.

AJ's immediate reaction was to go after them. She dropped Punk's hand and lurched forward, arm raised in front of her to seize the doorknob… but when Sam moved, she stopped dead in her tracks. He casually raised his arm from behind the chair, brandishing the sleek, formidable handgun he'd been concealing. He laid it in his lap, smiling at her.

"No, no, April," he said, tapping the barrel of his gun. "You'll stay right where you are."

"Please," Punk begged. "We did everything you said. We got here on time and we're alone."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Sam agreed with a nod. "The sedatives should be wearing off just about now, anyway." He leaned forward, steadying his chair before getting up. He stepped backwards to reach the bathroom door, never once taking his gun off the horrified parents in front of him.

"Sedatives?" AJ whispered dreadfully, her nails digging into Punk's arm again as she fought back more tears. "He drugged my babies?" Her breath hitched in her throat. Punk said nothing, merely biting his lip even harder. He couldn't react with rage. He couldn't fly across this room and rip Sam limb from limb the way he wanted to. This was Sam's game, and no matter how much pain it caused him, he had to play by Sam's rules.

"Phillip?" Sam called, nudging the bathroom door with his foot. "Sarah? You two awake in there? Come on out. Your asshole father and whore mother are here." Punk didn't even flinch, pleased to see that AJ remained silent as well. He knew Sam was just trying to get a reaction out of him. He refused to give the bastard the satisfaction. He gritted his teeth as the door slid open a little more, watching with baited breath for any sign of his children.

First to emerge from the bathroom was Phillip, sleepily trudging forward from his former prison. He all but dragged Sarah behind him, who was equally as drowsy as she followed her brother into the room. Their parents let out sighs of relief in unison- their children were tired and disheveled, with dirt-streaked cheeks, messy hair, and slightly torn clothing, but otherwise appeared no worse for wear. Although looking to be exhausted, both toddlers perked up immediately at the sight of their mother and father. "Daddy!" Phillip said weakly. "Mommy!" He tugged Sarah forward, attempting to cross the room to get to them, but Sam stuck his leg out in front of the eager children to halt their progress.

"Just let them go!" Punk cried desperately, fighting every sensibility to rescue his children. "You said you would let AJ take them! This is about me, goddamn it! Just fucking let them go! They have nothing to do with this, Sam! They're innocent!"

"Not just yet." Sam sat back in his chair, pulling Phillip and Sarah into his lap. They squirmed uneasily, but whatever sedative Sam had given them appeared to have too much of a hold on them still to allow them to protest much more. "You can go now, April." He waved his gun at her dismissively.

Punk's heart sank. It was clear now; Sam was going back on their deal. He had no intention of releasing the children. "You said you would let me leave with them!" AJ sobbed, unable to retain her composure any longer. "Why are you doing this?"

"I don't need you anymore," Sam replied flatly. "Now get the fuck out of here before you force me to do something you'll regret. Brooks, open the door for her." With no choice but to comply, Punk leaned back to grasp the doorknob behind him. He didn't take his eyes off them for a second as he pulled the door open, sure his wildly pounding heart was loud enough for all of them to hear. "Good. Now AJ, get in your car and drive away. _Now_!"

"I love you," AJ whispered to Punk, squeezing his arm tightly before looking over at her children. "Mommy will be back for you, I promise-"

Sam tapped his gun against the chair. "Now!" Punk was numb as she ran from the room. He was mildly aware of the sound of screeching tires a moment later, as the car sped out of the parking lot. "Now close the door and lock it." Again, Punk obeyed without question.

"All right," Punk said tightly, locking eyes with the resident madman of the room. "AJ is gone and you've gone back on our arrangement. What's going to happen, Sam?"

He dug his hand-with difficulty-into his jacket pocket, rummaging around for a moment before removing a small object. "Catch," he said, tossing it to Punk.

"What's this?" Punk asked as he stretched out his arms, fumbling to catch it. Frowning, he looked down at his hands- it was a syringe.

"Heroin," Sam replied.

"Heroin?" he practically squeaked in reply. "What… what do you want me to do with it?"

Sam's lips twisted into a demented smile. "Inject it."


	26. Chapter 26

Punk blinked hard; he had to have misheard his former cellmate. "You… you want me to what?" he asked slowly as he looked down, carefully studying the greasy-looking substance inside the syringe. It burned his palms; he wanted to drop the damned thing.

"You heard me," Sam replied. "I want you to take that and inject yourself with it."

His blood ran ice cold through his veins, seizing his heart like a vice. He refused to believe this was really happening. "I… I… I can't," he stammered, his widened eyes never leaving the accursed object cradled in his hands. "I can't do this! I _can't_!"

"You _can_, and you _will_!" Sam snapped.

"I can't!" Punk cried. "This is fucking crazy! You're out of your mind!"

"And _you _need to get the fuck off your high horse, Straight Edge Superstar!" Sam shot back, his bloodshot eyes fierce and locked on his victim. "Come on, _Punk_! Give in to the urge. See what it feels like to be like me! See what it feels like to have that shit running through you and controlling you. You think you're better than me, don't you?"

"I don't," Punk muttered, shaking his head rapidly. "I don't, I swear."

"You do!" Sam shouted intensely, his grip on the gun tightening. "It's tattooed on your stomach and it's written all over your face! It's even your fucking catchphrase! Well, that's over, pretty boy. You're gonna be one of the gang, now!"

Punk's mind was racing frantically. He couldn't do this- he _couldn't_! There had to be a way out of this, somehow… "I… I thought you were a meth head," he blurted out, in a desperate attempt to bide time.

"It's my poison of choice," Sam agreed. "I like the high. Brings me up."

"Then why are you trying to give me heroin?" Punk asked.

"Cheaper," Sam answered. "And easier to get a hold of. And oh, it'll bring you down, buddy. It's exactly what you need." After a moment's pause, he frowned. "No more stalling, asshole. Do it!"

Punk shook his head rapidly. "I can't do this, Sam!" he yelled. "I'm not playing your sick fucking games anymore, you bastard!"

"Oh, you're going to play my game until I say we're done," Sam growled. "You're going to stick that fucking needle into your vein and you are going to _feel _what I feel!" He jammed the barrel of his gun roughly against Phillip's temple; the boy groaned quietly at the force of the impact, slumping back against his captor's chest. "Do it, or I swear to God I'll blow both of their fucking heads off!"

"No!" Punk begged, feeling the ground shift beneath his uneven feet. He stumbled slightly, wishing the floor was going to open up and swallow him whole. "Please, don't hurt them… I'll…" He bit his lip so hard he drew blood. "I'll do whatever you want."

That same devious, evil smile spread across Sam's face once more. "Good," he said. He watched Punk for a moment with glee, only to become infuriated as his victim stood, frozen, doing nothing. "What are you waiting for? Do it! Do it now!"

"I… don't know how," Punk admitted, flustered. "I've never injected myself with anything before."

Sam cocked his head back, howling with laughter. "Of course!" he crowed. "I can't believe I didn't think of that. I almost forgot." He dropped his arm from around Sarah's waist to get into his pocket again, pulling out a short roll of surgical rubber tubing and tossing it to Punk. "Here. Roll your sleeve up and tie this around your arm, above your elbow." He smirked. "I'm sure it'll be hard to see your veins under all that ink, but you'll just have to have a good eye."

Punk's hands were shaking as he followed instructions, failing several times to tie the tube around his arm. It felt as though time had slowed; even as he felt the tube snagging against his skin, he still couldn't believe that any of this was real, but it had to be; he could feel the life draining from his limbs as he slowly raised the syringe.

"Daddy…" Sarah murmured, raising her head. She was starting to squirm against Sam's grip.

"Everything's going to be okay, sweetie," Punk assured her, but the lie stung his throat. It wasn't going to be okay. His son was only half-conscious, and his daughter was about to watch him commit the most unspeakable act of his life. The ultimate sacrifice, worse than death, for his family.

"Shut up!" Sam snapped. "Damn thing wearing off too fast…"

"Daddy?" Sarah asked again, undeterred by Sam.

"_Shut up_! Come on, Brooks! Hurry the fuck up!"

This was it- it had to be the end. He was about to violate everything he'd ever lived by, everything he stood for. If only he'd been smarter and been able to keep his family safe, it wouldn't have come to this. This was all his fault. His children's kidnapping, his wife's pain, all of it. He deserved this. He deserved to be like this scum Sam wanted to turn him into.

"Do it!" Sam shrieked, gun hand shaking at Phillip's head. "Do it, do it, _do it_!"

Punk aimed the syringe at the crook of his arm. His skin was pale and largely obstructed by tattoos, but he could see the vein- blue and pulsating. Furious, desperate tears formed in his eyes as the needle pricked his skin. No, this couldn't happen, but his thumb was poised at the top of the plunger. It was happening, fuck, this was really happening…

"_Daddy_!" Sarah's final, desperate cry echoed through the dirty room as she jerked against Sam's arm, knocking angrily into his chin. Sam let out a shrill cry of pain, the chair tipping and Phillip sliding out of his grasp and onto the floor.

Punk wasted no time. He tossed the syringe aside and darted across the room, throwing himself into Sam. "Phillip, Sarah, get up!" he shouted as he tackled Sam to the ground, desperate to get them out of harm's way. "Get in the bathroom, _now_!" His terrified, sobbing children scurried away from the skirmish as they followed their father's orders.

"You're fucking dead now!" Sam hissed with fury as he fought against Punk's weight. "All of you!" He scrambled for his gun, arm shooting out from beneath their bodies to take hold of the fallen firearm.

But Punk was one step ahead of him. He pulled back and stepped on Sam's wrist, stomping down roughly. Sam let out an enraged cry, rolling to his pinned arm and fighting wildly against Punk's leg, but it was hopeless. He was in Punk's territory now, and the still-Straight Edge Superstar was just about to tip over the ledge of self-control.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" he asked loudly, grinding his foot into Sam's wrist. The druggie howled in pain, his body writhing as he tugged uselessly at his arm. "It's different when you're all alone, isn't it?" He stomped down again, this time hearing a sickening crunch echo from beneath his heel. "Hard to fight back when you don't have four other guys doing your dirty work for you, isn't it? Look at me, you bastard! _Isn't it_?"

And then Punk completely lost it.

He dragged Sam up from the floor, pinning him back against the wall as he unleashed a flurry of powerful punches. Each blow whipped Sam's face back and forth as it connected. "You like how it _feels_, Sam?" Punk shouted, bringing his knee up sharply into Sam's stomach. "Huh? You like feeling the way you made _me _feel? How you made _Jake _feel?" He grabbed him by the shirt collar, throwing him to the floor again.

"This… is what… you deserve!" Punk yelled between blows as he let loose a series of brutal kicks to his ribs. Then he dropped down, kneeling over Sam as he started up the assault on his face and torso once more. He poured out more violent emotion with each strike he delivered, over three years of pent up rage, frustration, and agony. Every bit of torture he went through, he gave right back. Not just for himself… but for Jake, too.

His ears were ringing; he couldn't hear a thing but Sam's strangled cries of pain, and even those were fading. It wouldn't take much longer, now. A human could only take so much bodily harm before its life was snuffed out. But it just wasn't coming fast enough. "_You're _fucking dead now!" Punk cried, his hands closing around Sam's neck.

"_No!_" came a shout from the door as it flew open off its hinges. Zack and Kofi rushed into the room, seizing Punk by the shoulders and yanking him back. AJ rushed in after them, finding the gun next a motionless Sam and kicking it out of reach.

"Punk, you can't kill him!" Zack insisted, holding tightly to one of Punk's arms as Kofi gripped the other.

"I have to!" Punk shouted back wildly.

"Do you want to go back to prison?" Kofi snapped, tightening his hold as Punk strained against their grip.

"He deserves it!" Punk screamed. "He deserves it, the motherfucker deserves it!"

"No," AJ said coldly, staring down at Sam with disgust. "Death is too good for him."

"Mommy!" Phillip shrieked from the bathroom. He and Sarah ran out, throwing themselves at their mother and hanging on for dear life. They sobbed again and again, clinging to AJ's legs much the way Phillip had to Punk after seeing him for the first time in three years.

"Cops should be here any minute," Zack said gently. "Come on. Let's go wait outside." He and Kofi tugged Punk out of the room, who had already gone limp in their grip.

* * *

**Author's note: You guys didn't REALLY think I was going to let him do it, did you? ;) **


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's note: Hey all! We're up to chapter 27. Hope everyone is still with me. Sorry this one is a little short, but it's filler to get us to the next point in the story. If you have the time, check out the Valentine's Day one shot I did, called Valentine Secrets. Also check out some other great Punklee stories by my friends Red Foxy, White Firebird, Sam CF, Kelzo85, Jean-theGuardian, and RunningonCrazy. Enjoy!**

* * *

Punk's heart was still beating a mile a minute as Zack and Kofi pulled him out of the motel room. His line of vision spun slightly as his friends lowered him to the ground, leaning him against the wall as though he were a small child who couldn't walk. He wouldn't realize until he calmed down that no more than five minutes had passed since AJ was ejected from the room by Sam. He watched, head hung slightly, as she ran out that door for a second time, this time with their children in her arms.

"Mommy's here," she was whispering, clutching the sobbing toddlers tightly against her. "Mommy's right here. Everything's okay now. I promise." She moved to sit on the curb, continuing to mutter gentle words to them as she rubbed their backs. She wanted to cry herself, but now wasn't the time to burst into tears of relief. Her children were terrified and her husband had yet to surface from the dark depths of his own tortured memories. Right now, her family needed her to be strong.

"They're coming!" Kaitlyn called, running over from the edge of the parking lot. True to her word, the distant whine of police sirens began to reach them. The sound was deafening by the time they screeched into lot, the posse six squad cars and two ambulances wide. Punk could only watch as police officers and paramedics swarmed around him, still too numb to react.

* * *

"We can't be sure until the blood tests come back, but I'll bet your kids were drugged with Ketamine," the ER doctor explained, tucking his chart beneath his arms. "It's an animal tranquilizer, and it would explain why they have slight headaches and can't remember much about what happened before they were kidnapped. Your son will probably have a nasty bruise for a little while from that gun, but otherwise both children appear to have suffered no serious injuries."

"You hear that?" AJ said happily, squeezing Punk's hand. "They're okay."

"Ouch," Punk muttered, wincing.

"Sorry," she said quickly with a frown, retracting her hand. In her excitement, she'd forgotten the wounds on her husband's bandaged hands. He many cuts, nicks, and bruises on his knuckles and the rest of his hands, mostly from scraping across Sam's teeth and crunching against his bony torso.

"It's okay," he assured her. He offered her a small smile before turning his attention to his children, both of which were fast asleep on the bed, exhausted from their ordeal. Sarah was nestled comfortably in Phillip's embrace, who had his arms wrapped protectively around his little sister. IV tubes spiraled out from each of them, replacing for them precious fluids they lacked due to dehydration.

"I still can't believe it worked," Zack piped up a moment later, breaking the silence in the exam room.

"What worked?" Punk asked, glancing over at where the normally jovial wrestler sat.

"The plan," Kofi answered for him. "You know, the part where we saved your ass?"

"Oh," Punk replied with a nod. "Right." In the rush of being questioned by police officers and detectives, being carted off to the hospital against his will for examination, and worrying after Phillip and Sarah, he hadn't even thought to question how his friends had even known to ride out to the dusty little Motel 6. "How did that even happen, anyway?"

"We were following you," Kaitlyn explained. "It was Zack's car you guys took to get over there. AJ came to us as soon as you got the call from Sam. She was about to bolt without telling us where you were headed, but I wouldn't take no for an answer." She smiled wryly at AJ; nothing got past Kaitlyn where her best friend April was concerned.

"So we decided to keep our distance until we could get in closer," Zack jumped in. "When AJ came out, we hung by the door with the intention to bust in when we heard things getting hairy. As soon as we heard the fight start… we called the cops."

"It's a good thing we broke the door open when we did," Kofi added. "Another thirty seconds… and you would have killed him." He shook his head, shuddering at the thought.

"I know," Punk muttered shamefully. "I… couldn't control myself. I thought of everything he did to me, and everything he did to my old cellmate, Jake, and now Phillip, and Sarah… I couldn't stop. I wanted to…" His sentence trailed off, leaving the thought unfinished. But no one had any doubts about how it would end. He looked down at his sneakers; the tips were blood-stained. He knew the owner of these fluids was somewhere in this same hospital, handcuffed to his bed as he recovered.

"Hey," Zack said suddenly, "what's that?"

Punk blinked at him, looking up. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Zack pushed off the wall, stepping forward and pointing at the inner crook of Punk's arm. "That," he clarified. "It's bandaged. That's a pretty random place to get hit."

Instinctively, Punk moved to cover the spot. He hadn't said a word to any of them about what really transpired in that room. He'd told only the cops, as he was sure they would find his fingerprints on the fallen syringe as well as Sam's. "It's nothing," he muttered.

"It's _something_," AJ pressed, moving to stand in front of her husband. "Don't lie to me. No more secrets, remember? We promised!"

"I don't want to talk about this in front of the kids," he replied.

"They're asleep," Kaitlyn pointed out with a nod of her head toward them.

Punk threw down his hands in dismay. "I don't want to do this," he begged. "Please. Not here. Not now. I don't want to talk about it. Besides, it's- it's not bad. It's just a little cut."

But his reaction only confirmed that something horrible was hidden beneath that cloth. "Phil," AJ said slowly, "tell me what happened."

Punk shook his head rapidly, but all eyes in the room were on him. They were waiting for him- he knew there was no way out of this. Inhaling sharply, he reached for the bandage and tenderly yanked it away. Everyone frowned as they studied the injury he revealed.

"Is it… a bruise?" Kofi asked, squinting in confusion.

"Yeah," Zack confirmed, "but how?"

"Idiots," Kaitlyn muttered, rolling her eyes. She walked right up to Punk, unceremoniously pulling his arm out to get a closer look. Helpless, Punk allowed himself to be manhandled. "Yes, there's a bruise. But look. There's a little prick in the middle. It's a-"

"Needle mark," AJ finished, eyes widened, and she knew right away he hadn't received this in the ER- they had taken blood from his _right _arm. "Punk, what happened? Talk to me, baby. What…" Her eyes began to well up with tears. "What did he do to you?"

"He…" Punk shut his eyes tight, shaking his head. "Listen, you all have to promise to believe me, all right? I didn't do it. I didn't do it, I fucking swear. I was going to, because he made me, he was going to kill them if I didn't do what he said, but I promise, I didn't do it."

"Do what?" AJ asked gently, putting her hands on his shoulders. "Just tell us, baby. What did he try to make you do?"

When Punk raised his head again, his bloodshot eyes were filled with tears. "He tried to make me do drugs," he whispered. "He wanted me to be like him, so he tried to make me do heroin."


	28. Chapter 28

AJ's chest heaved painfully, Punk's revelation stinging her ears like a high-pitched whistle. She stumbled slightly, catching herself on the edge of his chair. "Oh, baby," she whispered tearfully, taking one of his hands gently between her own. "He… he made you do drugs?" The words tasted foul on her lips.

"No!" Punk nearly yelped, yanking his hand away. "He didn't! He tried, but I didn't do it." He tried to keep his voice down for the sake of his sleeping children, but it was hard to control himself.

"Punk, no one will judge you if you did," Kofi reminded him calmly. "You know that, right? You did it for Phillip and Sarah. It doesn't make you any less straight edge to be forced into doing something to save your kids' lives from a psychopath."

"It's not your fault," Kaitlyn added, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder.

"I didn't do _anything_!" Punk yelled, standing up so fast his chair fell over. "I was just about to, but Sarah kicked him and distracted him, so I dropped the needle and beat the shit out of him! Why won't you people fucking listen to me?"

His shout startled the kids. Groaning, Phillip lifted his head, instinctively clinging to Sarah as she rose as well. "M-mommy?" he mumbled groggily, eyes darting suspiciously around the room. "Mommy?" Sarah started to sniffle, tugging at her IV.

"Fuck," Punk muttered anxiously, rubbing his arms. "I woke them, now they're scared…"

"It's okay, it's okay," AJ said quickly. The deep, gut-wrenching stomach pain watching her husband in so much distress gave her was almost too much to bear. "They're just tired, don't worry."

"No!" Punk snapped, shaking his head fiercely. "Fuck, I have to get out of here…" He quickly fled the room, leaving a stunned family and friends in his wake.

AJ stood halfway between the bed and the edge of the room. She glanced back and forth between her agitated children and the door, torn between comforting them and going after her husband. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to burst into tears and collapse to the floor. Every member of her family needed her so desperately right now, and there wasn't enough of her to go around.

"Go," Kaitlyn told her suddenly, placing a gentle hand on her arm.

"But-" AJ faltered. "The kids…"

"I've got them," her best friend assured her, in a voice that left no room for anything other than acceptance. "Go make sure Punk's not finding a tall building to jump off, okay? Relax. Auntie Kait's got this." She crossed the room to reach the bed, where she began whispering soothing words to lull Phillip and Sarah back to sleep. AJ smiled at her gratefully before taking off in pursuit of Punk.

"Well?" Kofi asked quietly, as soon as she was gone. "Do you think he did it?"

Zack sighed. "It would certainly explain why he hasn't been acting like himself since we found him," he admitted. "But so could this entire ordeal." He shook his head. "I don't know. What do you think?"

"I don't think he did," Kofi replied firmly. "No, he's telling the truth. But I can say for sure that even being made to try pushed him into a really dark place." He pushed a fallen dreadlock out of his face, silent for a moment. "I hope AJ can bring him back."

* * *

It didn't take AJ long to track him down. This late, most of the hospital was shrouded in a palpable silence. His echoing footsteps led her to the cafeteria, which was closed for serving at this hour but still left the booths and tables open. She found sitting at a table beneath one of the few lights that was left on, head resting in his hands.

"Baby, you don't have to run from me," she said quietly, pulling a chair up next to him. "I'm sorry we didn't believe you at first. That was stupid. I know you're telling the truth."

"Then why didn't you believe me when I said it the first fucking time?" he growled, his head snapping up to glare at her.

"I…" She bit her lip. "I just wasn't sure what to think when you told me. I guess I was just having trouble coming to terms with it. But I know-"

"No, you _don't _know!" he shouted, pushing his chair back to stand up. "You have no idea, April! None of you do! I can tell you stories, but no words can really describe what I went through in prison! Sam tried to take everything from me- my friend, my family, my way of life… so I tried to take his! He almost made me put poison in my body, and I went so insane with rage that I almost fucking killed him. For the second time in my life, I almost killed a man! I'm a fucking monster!"

"Punk, you have to think it through more than that!" she insisted. "Sam was going to _kill our children_. You did what you had to do! And Daniel…" She shook her head sternly. "He was out of control. What you did probably wasn't the best way to handle it, but you did what you had to do to protect us! Every time you've been violent, it's been in defense our family!"

"Oh, so do the rules just not apply to me?" he asked, laughing harshly. "When other people attack their co-workers and try to beat people to death, it's a crime, but when I do it, it's justifiable? I can just excuse everything I do by saying it was for my family?"

He was unprepared for what happened next; she marched right up to him and slapped him across the face, hard. He was so dazed, he didn't even move to grasp his stinging cheek. "Listen to yourself!" she cried. "Do you even have any idea what you're saying? All of this is crazy. You are _not_ a monster, Phil Brooks. You are my husband, the father of my children, and a good man! You don't do drugs, and you don't hurt people unless they're threatening someone else. You never have. You're a good person, and you need to stop thinking like this. I'm not going through of a month of you hating yourself and being afraid to hold the kids like you were after what happened with Bryan."

He stood before her, motionless. She was right, his little spitfire- everything she said was right. She wasn't about to let him retreat to the dark recesses of his own mind- not this time. No, she was pulling him back up before he even had the chance to slide off the edge of sanity. He was overwhelmed, suddenly, as their eyes locked in silence, and pulled her against him for a fierce kiss.

She was too stunned to respond at first, but it was long before he wore down her resistance. She quickly began to kiss back, completely seduced by the warmth and sweetness of his lips on hers. "What was that for?" she whispered when he finally pulled back, still holding her close in his embrace.

"For not giving up on me, like you damn well have the right to," he replied, kissing her forehead. Then he sighed, rubbing her shoulders. "Look, I can't promise I'll just be able to forget about what happened tonight. But if you're still willing to help me through it… I think I can make it past this."

"The nightmare's over," she promised.

"I don't know about that," he admitted, "but I think it'll start getting better from here."


	29. Chapter 29

While Phillip and Sarah were cleared to leave the hospital only a few hours after being admitted, the Brooks family wasn't able to leave Las Vegas just yet. Both Punk and AJ were due at the police station to give their official statements about what happened. At first, this terrified Punk- he was sure they were going to arrest him for assault or attempted murder, and send him straight back to the hell he'd only just escaped months before.

"Don't worry," AJ told him as they rode over, trying to soothe both her anxious husband and her restless children in the back seat at the same time. "They just have to get it down officially on paper. Nothing bad is going to happen." She squeezed his knee, offering him her most encouraging smile.

She turned out to be right, much to his relief, and hers as well. After retelling his story to detectives and signing his sworn statement, he was assured no charges would come of his violence against Sam. They were free to go, and by Thursday morning they were on their way home to Chicago (with a different driver at the helm of the bus, one who had been with the company for many years). Hunter didn't expect them back at work until the following week; they would have time to relax.

But things didn't return to normal right away. Punk suffered from vivid, terrible dreams each night, but he expected those. They bothered him, but not nearly as much the way the children were acting.

He first noticed it on Friday, just a day after they got home. It was nearing lunch time, and he went to wake Sarah from her nap. "Sweetheart?" he called softly, pushing the door open slowly. His daughter was cocooned within her blankets, clutching them tightly. "It's almost time to have lunch. Mommy's downstairs making sandwiches. Are you-"

"No!" she yelped, yanking the blanket over her head.

Punk frowned, sitting on the edge of her bed. "No what?" he asked. "No food? Not hungry?" He tried to pull the blanket away, but she resisted, curling her tiny hands tightly around the fabric.

"No," she repeated, her voice heavy with the threat of tears. "No, no, _no_! Mommy! Mommy!"

AJ heard her daughter's cries from the kitchen. "You wait here," she told Phillip, who was rolling a slice of turkey into a tube at the kitchen table. She immediately dropped the loaf of bread on the counter and rushed upstairs, finding Sarah screaming and kicking wildly at her father.

"What happened?" AJ demanded, sitting down on the bed. She gathered Sarah into her arms, who immediately collapsed against her mother's chest in a fit of tears.

"I have no idea!" Punk cried, exasperated. "I came to get her from her nap and she freaked out."

"Shhh," AJ whispered, rocking Sarah back and forth gently. "It's okay, princess. Mommy's here, okay? Mommy's here. Shhh. That's my girl." She looked at Punk over the crown of their daughter's head, the two of them locking bewildered gazes.

It happened again later that night, this time with Phillip. Because of Sarah's strange reaction to her father, AJ looked after her for the rest of the day, leaving Punk to tend to their son's nightly routine. "Phillip!" he called from the bathroom as he turned on the faucet, beginning to fill the tub. "Come on, buddy! It's time for your bath!" He watched as the warm water struck the porcelain surface of the bathtub, waiting patiently for the sound of little feet padding down the hallway. When it didn't come, he called out again. "Phillip, let's go! It's getting late, and you need to get ready for bed!" Nothing. With a frustrated sigh, he turned off the water and exited the bathroom in search of his son.

He passed Sarah's room, peeking through the cracked open door to see AJ curled up with her, reading Green Eggs and Ham. He caught her eye and she looked up. _Downstairs, _she mouthed, pointing toward the floor. He nodded to her in thanks and headed downstairs.

His first and only stop was the living room. He found Phillip sitting on the floor next to the couch, humming quiet motor noises as he scooted a toy truck up the leg of the coffee table. "Hey, little man," Punk said lightly, sitting down on the couch. "I was calling for you. Didn't you hear me? I've got the tub full for you upstairs."

He immediately froze at the sound of his father's voice, his truck halting for a moment. But it quickly started its journey again, rolling across the wood table top with Phillip guiding its way. Punk frowned- his son was ignoring him. "Phillip," he said sternly, reaching over to put a hand on the little boy's shoulder, "I'm talking to you. You can't just-"

Phillip instinctively shied away from Punk's touch. He shrank against the table, looking back up at his father with wide green eyes. "I don't wanna take a bath," he muttered, looking away.

Punk chuckled. It was just like a little kid to fight bath time. "You played outside all day," he reminded him. "You can't just not take a bath. We've gotta get you clean before you go to bed."

He was silent for another moment, spinning the wheels of his truck before looking back up at Punk again. "Can Mommy do it?" he asked quietly.

* * *

"I don't get it," Punk said the next morning, after both children had refused to let him give them breakfast. "Why are they acting so weird with me? They won't even let me touch them." He sighed, folding his arms as he glanced over at the living room. Sarah lay back on the couch, security blanket wrapped around her as she was glued to the latest episode of Spongebob. Phillip was right next to her, zoned out as well.

"I don't know what's going on," AJ admitted, closing the fridge after replacing the milk carton. She studied her husband anxiously; she knew how much their kids' behavior was bothering him.

"At first I thought they were just scared and thinking about what happened," he said, hopping up to sit on the counter. "But they were drugged. The doctor said they wouldn't remember anything before we got to them, right?" He ran a hand roughly over his hair. Something was wrong with his children, and he had no idea how to fix it.

"I'll talk to them," she assured him, squeezing his arm. "We'll get to the bottom of this somehow."

* * *

"All right," Colt said finally, "talk. You've been sitting on my couch for two hours and you haven't said a word. I'm sick of watching The Wire. What the hell is going on?" When Punk still didn't answer, Colt grabbed the remote and shut the TV off. "You're having nightmares again, aren't you?"

Punk pushed up his sleeves, grumbling as he stretched back into the cushions. "Yeah," he admitted, "but that's not… that's not what's getting me. I expected the nightmares. They suck like a motherfucker, but I expected them."

"Then what _is _getting you?" Colt pressed. "Come on. _Talk_."

"The kids have been acting really strange, ever since we got back," Punk explained slowly. "But not with AJ. Only with me. They won't let me feed them or bathe them or put them to bed or even hug them. They freak out every time I touch them, every time I walk into a room or say a word. I thought they were reliving what they went through, but they can't remember anything that happened before they woke up when we got there. Earlier, AJ finally got them to admit why they've been acting this way."

"And?" Colt asked calmly. "Spit it out. Come on."

Punk took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself to admit the truth. He groaned angrily, standing up and turning away. "They're scared of me," he said quietly, looking down at the floor.

Colt frowned. "They're _what_?"

"They're scared of me," Punk repeated. "The first thing they remember after waking up is seeing me beat the shit out of Sam. They watched me almost kill him, and now my son and daughter are afraid Daddy will hurt them the way he hurt the man in the room."


	30. Chapter 30

**Author's note: Hey everyone! Soooo sorry it's been so long since the last update. I've had some nasty writer's block plus some other things going on. But I'm back, and here's chapter 30! Enjoy!**

* * *

"Sweetie, please talk to Mommy," AJ begged, curling one leg under her.

"I don't wanna," Phillip muttered, burying his head under the pillows.

AJ sighed, leaning back into the couch. She had been at this for hours now, ever since she admitted to Punk the reason for their kids' behavior and he'd left house without another word. In a way, she didn't blame him- if the children had revealed they were afraid of _her_, she would have wanted to run away, too. "Honey, _please_," she tried again. "Just talk to me. Why do you think Daddy would hurt you?"

"I said already!" Phillip cried, yanking his head up from beneath his protective cocoon. "Daddy hurt the man! He was crying cause Daddy hit him a lot of times! You always say hitting is bad and not to hit but Daddy hit him even when the man was crying and asked him not to!"

Her son's words were powerful enough to stun her into silence for a moment. She tried to imagine seeing through his eyes, watching Punk brutalize Sam to within an inch of his life, but the thought made her shudder. "I'm sorry, baby boy," she whispered finally, gathering him into her arms. She pressed a soft kiss to his sweaty crown before releasing him, allowing him to scamper out of the living room and up the stairs. She heard his bedroom door slam a moment later.

"Where did Daddy go?" Sarah then piped from where she sat on the living room floor, trying to piece together a puzzle of baby ducks.

"He went to Uncle Colt's house," AJ replied quickly. She didn't know whether or not this was true, but it was the most likely destination for Punk any time he ran off.

Sarah accepted this with a nod, one of her braids falling in front of her face as she bent over her puzzle again. She fiddled with it for a moment, sliding the last few pieces around before finally pressing them into their proper places. She smiled triumphantly, then looked up. "Is he sad cause he hurted the mean man?" she asked quietly.

AJ had to consider her answer carefully here; she didn't want to risk upsetting Sarah, after working so hard to calm her down earlier. "Daddy's sad because you and your brother are sad," she said finally. "He doesn't want you to be scared of him."

Her daughter considered this before standing up, crossing the room to join her mother. "Daddy yelled at the man," she muttered, climbing up onto the couch. "He yelled a whole lot. I don't like when Daddy yells. It's real scary."

"I know, love," AJ said soothingly, pulling Sarah into her lap. "But do you know _why _Daddy was yelling?" Sarah shook her head, looking down as her mother curled a ringlet of hair behind her daughter's tiny ear. "That man was… trying to do some very bad things." AJ bit her lip; how would she explain to a two-year-old why her father nearly killed a man? "He took you and your brother from Mommy and Daddy's bus. That's why Daddy hit the man. To get you and Phillip back home to Mommy and Daddy."

"But you don't hit," Sarah protested lightly. "You're not s'posed to hit, right? Hitting's wrong!"

"That's right," AJ agreed with a nod. "Hitting is wrong. But if someone is trying to hurt you, it's okay to hit back to keep yourself or someone else safe."

Sarah fell silent, rolling down the fluffy tops of her socks and pulling them back up again. She repeated this several times, pressing her pearly nails into the soft fabric as she tried her best to dodge her mother's gaze. "There was blood," she muttered, still keeping her head down. "Lots of blood. It was icky, and Daddy was all shaking."

Sighing sadly, AJ took her daughter's hands in her own. Her palms were cool and tiny, reminding AJ so much if the way her own hands looked so many years ago. She remembered running back into the motel room to rescue her children, Sarah staring up at her through blood-flecked lashes; both she and Phillip had been covered in sprays of Sam's blood. Recalling the image broke her heart all over again. She wondered how long that memory would stick with her children. The possibility that Sarah would forget was strong; she wasn't even three yet, after all. But Phillip… it would probably stay with him forever. "I know, sweetie," she whispered. "I know it was scary. But you don't have to be scared of Daddy. Daddy loves you and your brother more than anything in the whole wide world. He would never hurt you." She smiled broadly at Sarah, tipping her chin up. "Now what do you say we go talk to your brother?"

* * *

"How did my life get to this point?" Punk asked.

Colt let out a small chuckle, kicking a discarded soda can down the sidewalk. "Not sure what you mean," he replied. "Are you talking about being back in my guest room again?"

"It seems like I always end up back there eventually," Punk agreed with a wry smile, "but that's not what I meant. I'm talking about…" He sighed, gesturing vaguely before them as they walked. "Everything. All of this. Having a kid. Getting married. Almost killing a guy who used to be one of my best friends. Cheating on my wife. Getting arrested and almost killed, then getting cheated on…" That one made Colt wince. "The conviction, divorce, three years in prison, and then another kid I didn't even know about!"

"And then another marriage, a kidnapping, and another damn near killing," Colt finished.

Punk nodded. "My life's been like the first few seasons of a USA Network drama series," he said with a sigh. "I don't even understand it. I've been going over everything that happened, and I can trace it all back to the very first time AJ stopped me outside the locker room." He glanced down at his phone, just to make sure he had the date right. "5 years, 2 months, 1 week, and 2 days ago."

At this, Colt nearly stumbled. He caught himself on Punk's shoulder, howling with laughter. "You have the exact date memorized?" he asked. "Jesus, man."

"It's not _that _stupid," Punk grumbled, shaking his best friend off playfully. "I just… like to remember. It's like an anniversary, right? Sort of?"

Colt laughed again. "You've come a long way from being the guy who used to forget his own birthday," he noted, then dug his hands in his pockets. "But, you know, that almost makes it sound like… like she's responsible for everything bad that's happened in your life in the past… what was it? 5 years, a few months, something?"

"I _could _say that," Punk muttered, placing his hands in his own pockets. "I never would have tried to protect her from Bryan, we wouldn't have had that amazing heat-of-the-moment but stupidly unprotected sex, she wouldn't have gotten pregnant, Bryan wouldn't have retaliated, and then I… bam." He sighed, looking at the cracked concrete paver beneath his sneakers. "None of that was her fault, though. I may not have known what I was getting myself into, but neither did she. I may be able to trace back everything bad that happened to the beginning of our relationship… but she also gave me everything I ever wanted."

"Letting you fuck her on the kitchen table doesn't count," Colt reminded him, earning himself a rough smack on the shoulder.

"You know what I mean," Punk scolded. "A real family. Someone to come home to after days on the road. Someone to keep my massive ego in check."

Colt just smiled. "I know what you meant," he assured him. They walked in silence for a few moments more, the only sounds that of the sparse traffic around them and the soles of their shoes scraping against the ground. "So where are we going, anyway? And why the hell did we have to walk? I have a car, you know. It even has a full tank."

"It's a nice day out," Punk answered simply. "I thought we'd walk." They rounded the corner and found themselves in a parking lot, the last barrier that separated them from the park. An expanse of freshly mowed grass lay before them, guiding their way to the playground.

"We're right back where we started five months ago, aren't we?" Colt asked quietly as they crossed the empty soccer field.

"Yeah," Punk replied just as softly, stopping at the edge of the field. He looked out at the playground; his wife was sitting on a bench, watching their children chase each other near the jungle gym. "We are."


	31. Chapter 31

AJ turned around as soon as she heard the grass crunching behind her. She looked up at Punk gratefully, jumping up from the bench and running to embrace him. "I'm so glad you came," she whispered, pressing her forehead against his neck. "I was afraid I was going to lose you again."

"Hey," Punk said quietly, holding her by the shoulders at arm's length. "I told you that was never happening again, remember?" He glanced nervously over at the playground, where the children had yet to notice their father's presence. "I just… hope you were right about what you said last night."

"I am," she assured him. "You'll see." It had been her idea to meet at the park today, much the way it had been months ago. She'd called him last night, after having a long discussion with Phillip. Although she spent the rest of the evening after the call running scenarios through her head-the kids screaming in fear, running away from him, having nightmares-she was confident this afternoon that their family would be able to heal.

Punk bit his lip for a moment, but he nodded. He would never admit it, but he'd spent the entire night pacing Colt's guest bedroom. He was probably more nervous now than he'd been the first time he'd arrived at the park to reunite with his children- because this time, he had so much more to lose. If he'd never been able to get them back in the first place, that would have been one matter… but losing them again, after having so many months of joy and bliss getting to know them again (for the first time, really; Phillip was only a baby when Punk left, and he'd never known Sarah at all) would just kill him.

"Everything will be fine," AJ whispered encouragingly, kissing his cheek. She too had gotten little sleep the previous night. But if they were ever going to get past this, to put Sam and his night of torture behind them, this had to happen. No matter how much it might hurt any of them initially. "Phillip! Sarah! Come on over, guys!"

Phillip was just tumbling down the slide when he heard his mother's call. He hopped off the edge of the slide, landing perfectly. A proud grin spread across his face as he looked down at his feet, Spiderman sneakers lighting up as they stomped down on the sand. But his smile faded as he looked over at the bench, eyes landing on his embracing parents, and Colt a few feet back. He watched as Sarah ran right over, her two braids whipping behind her. "I wanna play," he said ruefully, his feet remaining firmly planted at the bottom of the slide.

"Come on, sweetie," AJ coaxed. "We talked about this, remember?"

But he wasn't even looking at his mother. His gaze was glued to his father, identical bright green eyes locked to each other's. He tried to glance down, kicking at the sand beneath his feet, but he couldn't look away for long. He was instinctively driven to Punk, and before he even realized what was happening, his feet were already moving. He wanted so badly to just play catch with Daddy again, even though he saw that bad, bad man whenever he closed his eyes.

Punk was already holding Sarah by the time Phillip reached them. She looked a little reserved, but appeared otherwise at ease in her father's arms. "Hey, princess, why don't you go play with Uncle Colt while I talk to your brother?" Punk asked, gently setting his daughter down. He planted a light kiss on the top of Sarah's head. She shivered only slightly, but she looked up at him with a small smile before scurrying off to join Colt at the soccer field. She had been much easier to win over, being younger and so in need of her father after living most of her life without him.

AJ circled around them, standing behind Phillip and squeezing his shoulders. "It's okay," she said soothingly. "Talk to Daddy, honey." Her outward demeanor was calm, but inside her stomach was in knots. Despite her earlier confidence, she was suddenly just as nervous as Punk. What if this _didn't _work the way she hoped it did? If one of her kids could barely sleep while their father was in the house, how would they ever be a normal family again?

"Hi, Daddy," Phillip whispered, looking down again.

"Hey, buddy," Punk replied, taking to one knee so to seem less overwhelming. "How… how are you feeling?" He forced a smile, even though he hated feeling like such a stranger to his own son.

"Okay, I guess," Phillip muttered in reply.

AJ sighed before she could stop herself. "Phillip, come on," she urged, nudging him anxiously. "Please don't do this. We talked about this."

"It's okay," Punk assured her, but he could already feel himself cracking inside. "Give him time." He waved him forward. "Come here, buddy. Come talk to me. It's just me, Phillip. It's Daddy." An idea coming to him suddenly, he smiled. "Hey, did Mommy ever tell you why your name is Phillip?" The little boy shook his head. "That's because it's my name."

Phillip's expression brightened a little. "Really?" he asked.

Punk nodded. "You bet," he answered. "My full name is Phillip Jack Brooks, and _your _full name is Phillip Jack Brooks, Junior."

"Wow!" Phillip exclaimed, smiling broadly. "Is that what the 'jurrr' after my name means?" He looked up at AJ, who nodded and smiled back.

"You look just like me when I was your age," Punk continued. "My dad didn't like to play catch with me, so I had to throw my baseball against our backyard fence and pick it up and throw it back. I was so happy when Mommy and I had you… I would finally have someone to play catch with. But I went away before you were big enough to throw the ball back." He was talking too fast to stop now, the words tumbling out in spite of himself. "I'm sorry I had to leave, Phillip. I hated being away from you and I missed you every day. When I finally got you back, I was so happy and…" His voice was starting to break. He swallowed hard, trying to quash the lump rising in his throat. "I'm so, so sorry I hurt that man in front of you. I should have been careful, but I wasn't, and that scared you. But you don't have to be scared of me. I'm your Daddy. And Daddy would never, ever hurt you because I love you so much."

"Daddy," Phillip said quietly, stepping forward, "you're crying."

Punk frowned. "I am?"

In response, his son came even closer, close enough to reach out and press his fingertips to his father's stubbled cheek. They came away wet, revealing the silent tears Punk had shed without even realizing it. "Don't be sad, Daddy," Phillip said. "We can go play catch. Mommy brought our gloves."

Punk ran his sleeve across his eyes. "You want to play catch?" he asked slowly.

Phillip nodded, grabbing his father's hand and tugging it urgently. "Let's go!" Punk stood, letting his son pull him in the direction of AJ's car. He looked back at her over his shoulder, smiling. He was going to play catch with his son again.

* * *

They played for hours. Sarah eventually fell asleep with her mother on the bench, exhausted after having missed her nap. AJ wanted to take her home, but watching Punk pushing Phillip on the swing, she couldn't bear to disturb their moment. She cradled her daughter in her arms, watching her son and her husband re-forge their broken bond. She was sure they would have gone on all night if she'd let them, but as the sun started to set, she finally rose from the bench, shifting Sarah's weight to her other shoulder as she crossed the playground.

"I think it's time to go," AJ announced as she reached the swing set. "Why don't we go home and have some dinner? We can order pizza if you want."

"Pizza!" Phillip exclaimed as his swing came to a stop. He jumped off the seat, pulling at one of Punk's belt loops. "Can we have pizza? Can we? Can we?"

"Yes, yes," Punk laughed. "Extra pepperoni. Just like you like it."

Phillip's excitement had woken Sarah by now. She was equally as hungry, eager for pizza as her brother was. AJ set her down, and she and Punk trailed behind as their children ran ahead to the car.

"It looks like they're going to be all right," AJ said as they walked, entwining her hand with his. "I was scared he was going to run away again. Until I finally got Sarah to warm up, he wouldn't even talk to me. Ran straight to his room whenever I tried to bring you up."

"Trust me, I was scared, too," Punk admitted. "But everything's going to be okay."

"Everything?" she asked uncertainly, squeezing his hand. "Us, too?" Part of her was still afraid she would lose him again, either in his uncertainties or to his own demons. But before her fearful thoughts could continue, he pulled her hand up to his lips and kissed it.

"Us too," he promised.


	32. Chapter 32

_December 19__th__, 2016_

_Dear Punk,_

_That sounds weird, doesn't it? "Dear Punk"? Sorry, I had to get that off my chest before I got on with the rest of this letter. But before I continue, I have to warn you that it might sound a little weird. I ran it by Colt before I sent it, and he assured me that it didn't sound as gay as I thought it did, but I'm giving you the heads up anyway. All right, are we ready to go? Okay._

_I think about you every day. And not just you- AJ, too, and Colt, and Phillip, and Zack, and Kaitlyn, and Kofi. But mostly you and AJ, and about everything that happened. Not a day goes by when it doesn't cross my mind. Whenever I'm in physical therapy or at the gym, or I see wrestling on TV, or I do an appearance, or I talk to anyone we used to work with, or sometimes when I'm just staring out the window and thinking, I think about you guys._

_For a long time after the… accident, I blamed you and AJ for what happened to me. And as you know, it took me a long time to forgive you… but I did, and it helped me move on with my life. But you two were never able to move on with yours, and for that I blame myself. I'll never forgive myself for you losing everything. You might not believe this, but I was pretty heartbroken when I heard through the grapevine that you and AJ got divorced. That never would have happened if it weren't for me. I've been lobbying this whole time for your conviction to be overturned or the case to be retried, but as you can probably already tell, none of my efforts have worked. But finally, I have the chance to do something now._

_A few days ago, I got a letter from the parole board of your prison. Apparently, as your 'victim', I'm entitled to know when you're up for parole so I can try to convince the board to keep you locked up. But if you know me at all by now, you know that I'm going to try my hardest to do the exact opposite. I know it's not much, since you've already been in there for almost three years, but you won't spend another three or four in there if I have anything to say about it. I'm going to speak for you at your parole hearing, hopefully seeing that your 'victim' forgave you long ago and that I'm really not a victim at all will convince them to send you home._

_You know, this whole time I've thought of you as "Punk". Should I even still call you that anymore? I'm sure most people haven't for a few years already. Maybe I should just call you "Phil". But no, that sounds too weird. I've always known you as Punk, just like everyone else has- even AJ calls you Punk, doesn't she? Yeah, I think we'll stick with Punk. You've always been Punk, and you always will be. Just like, even though no one really calls me that anymore, I'll always be Daniel Bryan. _

_Wow, I'm really getting wordy at this point. Sorry, I guess I just don't know what to say. I've waited this long to contact you because I thought you probably didn't want to see or hear from me, seeing as this is all my fault. But this time, I had to. I'll see you in a few weeks, Punk. And hopefully we'll walk out of that place together._

_-Daniel Bryan_

hr

The nightmares didn't stop, not for months. Punk expected that.

But time passed, just as it always did, and time meant healing. Punk healed, AJ healed, and their children, ever resilient as children often were, were back to their normal selves faster than either of their parents had imagined possible. So the family took to the road again, traveling by bus, their kids getting to explore dozens of different cities that most of America never saw through their entire lives.

The months passed in a blur; it wasn't long before Sarah's third birthday arrived. Punk turned 39 a month later, and it was only then when he began to question how much longer he could really keep wrestling. He was getting older, and his body had aged much more than it should have while he was in prison; regular beatings could do that. And his kids were getting older, too. Bringing them on the road while they were still preschool aged was fine, but what about later? They wouldn't be little forever. In a couple years, either his or AJ's schedule would have to be lightened considerably so they could attend elementary school five days a week.

No matter how many times he tried to tell himself otherwise, to remind himself of the conversation he'd had with Triple H where his boss had assured them that any allowances for their family would be made, he was still discouraged. How much longer could the Brooks family really keep this up? But after Survivor Series, when AJ finally won the diva's championship from Kaitlyn after a long, fairly brutal, hard-fought match, the news was handed down from the corporate ladder.

And just like that, all uncertainties were banished. Punk couldn't wait for Wrestlemania.

* * *

**April 1****st****, 2018- Texas, Wrestlemania 34**

"Sit down and finish your dinner," AJ repeated for the third time, placing her hands on her hips. "I'm not going to tell you again!"

"Okay," Phillip finally conceded, skidding to a halt around the catering table. Letting out a sigh, he scrambled onto the chair next to Sarah and woefully shoved a forkful of chicken into his mouth.

AJ smiled as she leaned back against the wall, watching her children eat. She knew why Phillip was so restless; it was his first Wrestlemania- Sarah's too. The two of them had been practically bursting with excitement for weeks in anticipation of the biggest wrestling event of the year. She couldn't blame her children for being so eager to see the show. Wrestlemania held a special kind of magic that no other show could even come close to. She was glad they would be able to experience it first hand; she knew she would have killed to have this kind of view of wrestling as a child. Soon, Colt would come to take them to their ringside seats, where they would get to watch the action up close.

As she bent to dab at the corners of Sarah's mouth with a napkin, she heard a trail of footsteps getting louder behind her. "They're just about done," she announced, wiping crumbs from her daughter's cheeks. "Let me just clean them up." She straightened up and turned around, and nearly stumbled back against Sarah's chair. "Oh. Not Colt." Her voice came out as a squeak.

"You don't look thrilled to see me," Daniel said teasingly, chuckling.

"No, no, it's not that," AJ assured him quickly, trying to regain her composure before he noticed anything was amiss- but she could tell he already knew she was nervous. She'd heard from other sources that Daniel had regained his ability to walk some time ago, but she hadn't seen him since the trial. Part of her was sure she would never see him again… but another part of her had always known, somehow, that they would confront each other again someday. But why did this have to happen here, now, in front of the kids? "I just… wasn't expecting to see you here. That's all."

Sarah swiveled in her seat. "Who are you?" she asked curiously, tilting her head slightly at him. She'd never seen nor heard of Daniel before, something AJ was grateful for. Her wariness of strangers was shining through now.

"I know him!" Phillip announced proudly, hopping out of his chair. "He's on Daddy's movie! His name is Daniel." He nodded rather matter-of-factly.

Daniel nodded back, smiling. "That's right," he confirmed. "I'm Daniel. You think it would be okay if I talked to your mom for a minute?"

"Sure!" Phillip piped up, before AJ could even speak. "He's a real good wrestler, Mommy. Him and Daddy did tons of super cool moves together! There was, um, the surfboard, and, um-"

"Everything okay?" Colt cut in, approaching the table. He eyed Daniel warily, much the same way Sarah had; while he knew Daniel posed no threat, he wasn't sure how comfortable AJ would feel around her ex-boyfriend, especially in front of the kids.

"Everything's fine," AJ said with a nod. "Uh, I guess you're taking them and going to your seats now? Here, go on with Uncle Colt, guys." She kissed each of them before scooting them in Colt's direction.

"You sure?" Colt pressed, narrowing his gaze at her as he felt small hands ease into each of his own.

"Positive," she replied. "Go on. I'll see you three later." She smiled. "Enjoy the show." She glanced down at her boots as they headed out, rounding the corner and disappearing.

"So," Daniel said awkwardly, shuffling his feet a little.

"So," AJ echoed. She looked up. "You, uh, you look good." It was true- he was back in shape, well-groomed, and well-dressed. He looked exactly like the Daniel she fell in love with, all those years ago.

"You too," Daniel said, looking her up and down. She was wearing her blue tights tonight, with their usual skulls, and Converse-inspired boots. Just like he remembered her.

After another moment of awkward silence, AJ cleared her throat. "So, what are you doing here?" she asked, clicking the heels of her boots together.

"I missed all of this," he answered, gesturing vaguely to the walls around them. "Being at arenas and stadiums and stuff. I wanted to see the action, and say hi to some old friends."

"We're not friends anymore," AJ she said quietly, looking down.

"We're not," he agreed, "and that's my fault." He sighed. "I didn't come find you to try to make amends or anything. Trust me, I know it's way too late for that. I just wanted to tell you that… I'm proud of you. I remember when you were a scared little girl in FCW, I think maybe 22 or 23 years old, and now look at you. You're a great wife and a great mom, and you're the diva's champion. You've fulfilled all of your dreams. Most people can't say that. I know there were a lot of bumps in the road, but you've come a long way. So, like I said, I'm proud of you."

She was surprised to find her fingertips wet when she touched her cheek; she hadn't even noticed her tears. "Daniel…" she whispered. "I… don't even know what to say…"

He merely smiled at her. "You don't have to say anything," he replied. He leaned in closer to her, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to her cheek. "Goodbye, AJ." He turned to leave her, and as he walked away, she felt the unhealed wound for him on the back of her heart begin to knot itself closed.

* * *

The show had gone well so far- very well. A fine Wrestlemania, Punk thought. They were about halfway through, and AJ was hitting the showers after her match with Kaitlyn, after having retained her diva's title. He was sitting alone in his locker room now, taking the opportunity to have some private reflection time while the yearly "celebrity" match took place.

He was finishing the X's on his wrist tape when there was a knock on his door. Because it was locked, he knew he would have to get up and answer it. He knew it wasn't AJ- she had a key. And Kofi and Zack would've simply announced their presence. So who the hell was disturbing his peace now? Grumbling, he put the cap back on his marker and rose from his chair. As soon as he opened the door, a broad grin spread from ear to ear.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," Punk said, stepping aside.

Daniel grinned, coming inside and shutting the door behind him. "So you knew I was here, huh?" he asked, leaning against the wall.

Punk laughed. "Of course I did! I do have a wife, you know. She tells me things."

"Oh." Daniel frowned suddenly, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly for a moment. "So I guess she told you what I said, didn't she?"

"Relax," Punk replied lightly. "Yeah, she did. And I'm glad you told her all of that. I think… I think a part of her never really got over what happened between the two of you. She needed to hear that everything's okay now, so she could forgive and move on. So… thanks."

"Don't thank me," Daniel said. "I wish there was more I could do. But…" He sighed. "I can't give you three years of your life back, can I?"

Punk paled a little, but he shook it off. "You can't," he agreed, "but Bryan… We're past that now, okay? We're never going to forget, and we're never going to be friends again the way we were, but if we're ever going to live our lives, we have to move on. I'm healing, and so is my family. You have to heal, too. Stop blaming yourself. It was both our faults, and now it's over."

"But your cellmate," Daniel insisted. "You never would have even met the guy if it wasn't for me. You almost lost your kids _twice _because of what I did!"

Punk grasped his shoulders firmly. "Listen," he said. "I'd be lying if I said it didn't take me a long time to forgive you while I was inside. Sometimes, staring at the wall for half the day, I'd hate you. I would imagine the terrible things I would do to you if I ever got the chance. I nearly lost my fucking mind. But you forgave me. I nearly killed you, and you forgave me. So I had to forgive you. It's over."

Their gazes were locked for a long, tense moment, clear blue against hazy green. But finally, Daniel nodded. "Just do me one favor," he said.

Punk dropped his hands from Daniel's shoulders. "And what's that?" he asked.

Daniel tapped the edge of the briefcase with his shoe. "Knock 'em dead tonight."

* * *

Punk stood at the gorilla position. In one hand, he had a microphone; the other held a much smaller hand, a smooth, soft, perfectly manicured one. He looked to AJ and smiled, who squeezed his hand. They were only moments away, now. In just a few minutes, he would get the signal, walk through the curtain, and change everything again.

As he stared at his wife, her deep brown eyes wide with love and adoration as she stared back at him, he thought of everything they'd been through. Nearly six long years leading up to this moment. Six years of finding love, suffering heartbreak, having kids, cheating, a prison stint, staring death in the face, and nearly losing themselves all over again had finally brought them here. He imagined his kids, his beautiful children, standing with his best friend as they eagerly awaited their father's appearance. He thought of holding Phillip for the first time, sliding a wedding ring onto AJ's finger, flying off the ropes to deliver an elbow drop. His three great passions in life- his wife, his kids, and wrestling.

"What are you thinking about?" AJ asked, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Everything," he answered.

She shivered slightly as he reached to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. She still had trouble imagining, sometimes, that this was really what her life had become so far- and she had only just turned 30! How many 30-year-olds could boast two wonderful children, a loving husband, and a star-studded wrestling career at that age? Just one, and somehow, after humble beginnings in New Jersey and clawing her way to the top, that one was her. And somehow, at the end of it all, after being pushed away and pushing him away in return, she still had the best in the world by her side.

She was almost too lost in thought to see the trainer nod to Punk and beckon him toward the curtain. But she blinked back to reality, turning to him and smiling. "Ready?" she whispered.

"Ready," he whispered back. He dropped her hand slowly, bending down to retrieve his bright red briefcase. He gave one last long, lingering glance to the girl he loved before swallowing hard and proceeding out onto the stage.

The roar of 100,000 people was deafening; somewhere in those shouts, he knew Colt and his children were screaming, too. "Hey, Cena!" he shouted into the mic, over the howl of the crowd and the boom of his music. He looked down the length of the ramp, ending at the ring where John lay exhausted with his retained championship belt. "Comfy down there? Not for long, buddy boy. I'm taking back what's mine!" He let the mic crash the ground and started running toward the ring.

* * *

**Author's note: Well, that's a wrap, everyone! I hope the ending satisfies everyone and didn't seem too corny. When I originally started End of Heartache, I never thought it would turn into a huge trilogy like this but I'm very pleased with how everything turned out, and I hope you all are too. A big thanks to my frequent beta readers and brainstomers- Red Foxy, Sam CF, Kelzo85, Raiden519, WhiteFirebird, RunninOnCrazy, and also thanks to all of my great reviewers and readers who have stuck it out all through this crazy ride. Keep an eye out for my next story, which will be an AU about our favorite couple and The Shield. It's called Desperate Measures and the first chapter will be up soon. Thanks again everyone!**

**-MyChaosTheory**


	33. Chapter 33: Epilogue

**Author's note: Hey everyone. I've been getting several reviews and PMs about this story asking when I'm going to update it, if I've forgotten about it because I started a new story, etc. Apparently, some people didn't realize that chapter 32 was the last chapter, even though I said so at the end of the chapter and marked the story as complete. I've also been told I left it at a cliffhanger. I thought I implied pretty well that Punk wins his title back, but I guess not, so I decided to write a little epilogue for everyone who wasn't entirely satisfied. Just so we're perfectly clear, THIS IS THE END OF THIS STORY AND THE END OF HEARTACHE TRILOGY. THANK YOU. Ok now that's out of the way, so enjoy the epilogue. :)**

* * *

"It's been a long time," Punk said quietly. "I would have brought flowers or something, but you would have just laughed at me and called me a douchebag." He chuckled nervously. "Fuck, I don't even know what to say. I don't really do this. But AJ suggested I come talk to you, so… Oh, yeah. That's another thing. We got back together. I know I yapped about her all the time. Turns out, I had another kid with her, and…" He sighed. "But that's not what I came here to talk about. I just wanted to tell you… remember how you told me I shouldn't let everything that happened hold me back? Well… I didn't. I got it all back, man. Everything. I got my family back, and my job, and I even won the WWE championship again a couple of weeks again. You… you would have loved to see it. You really would have. Really, I owe it all to you. I wouldn't even be here, if you hadn't saved my life."

He reached out to touch the small headstone in front of him, running his hand across the engraving. 'Jacob Ellerman', it read, and that was all. The prison couldn't bother to give fallen inmates anything better; the graveyard was full of thousands of these plain, undecorated memorials to the men no one cared to remember.

But Punk remembered. He remembered everything Jake did for him, and he wasn't about to let those deeds go unrecognized. The man that saved his life would not be forgotten. "I'm going to take care of things, Jake," he whispered. "I promise."

"Mommy, what's Daddy doing?" Phillip whined impatiently. He leaned out of the car, craning his neck to see his father, but his view was blocked by the fence at the end of the parking lot. Both he and his sister were anxious, unsettled by their parents' vagueness today. "When can we go?"

"Soon, sweetie," AJ assured him, squeezing her son's shoulders. She watched as Punk kneeled before the grave, placing his hand firmly on the firm stone surface before him. She knew this was important for him. He had to make peace with the man who all but sacrificed himself. Perhaps now, having 'made things right' with Jake in his own way, he would finally be able to move on and stop blaming himself… but not quite yet. This wasn't their last stop.

* * *

"I'm nervous," Punk muttered, glancing down at his shoes. He instinctively clamped his hand down on his knee to stop it from bouncing incessantly.

"Everything will be fine," AJ assured him encouragingly, placing a supportive hand atop his. It remained there for a moment, until the light turned green and she turned the car onto the next block.

"But what if she blames me?" he pressed. "What if she slams the door in my face and doesn't want to see me? What if she's already moved on, and all I'm doing is dragging up painful memories?"

"None of that will happen," she replied firmly. She could tell her husband was having second thoughts about this, but he'd instructed her last night not to let him back down. He had to do this, and not just for himself. They'd talked it over at length, and they both decided going through with this plan would benefit all parties involved. She had high hopes that, with encouragement along the way, Punk would be able to help others heal, too.

"I think this is it," Punk announced, pointing at the house at the end of the street. He glanced down at the scrap of paper in his hands, just confirm the address was correct. Yes, this was the place. His heart started to pound as AJ pulled the car into the driveway. This was it.

"We'll wait here," she said, glancing at the backseat; Phillip and Sarah were fast asleep, slumped over in their car seats. Punk nodded, giving AJ a quick kiss before slipping silently out of the car. He closed his door softly, as not to wake his slumbering children.

The house looked innocuous enough. It was a casual suburban home, two floors high with a cheerful welcome mat in front of the door. But the 'Foreclosure Sale' sign posted in the front yard told another story, one that suggested things were not as happy here as they seemed. Hopefully, Punk would be able to change that. He bit down on his lower lip as he ascended the front steps of the porch; it felt like a mile long walk to the door. But he was right there in front of it, and there was no turning back now. Taking one last deep breath, he rang the doorbell.

"Just a second!" came a call from inside. "I'll be right there!" Punk waited patiently as the sound of footsteps drew nearer, and finally the door opened. A young, blonde-haired woman answered. She couldn't have been much older than AJ, but her tired blue eyes looked more aged than the rest of her.

"Julia Ellerman?" Punk asked.

"Yes, that's me," she replied cautiously. "Can I… help you?" She clearly didn't recognize him.

He took off his hat, which shadowed part of his face. "My name is-"

"Phil Brooks," she finished for him with a slight gasp, eyes widening now that she could see him clearly.

"You know who I am?" he asked.

"Of course," she replied, folding her arms. "I've seen you on television. You're CM Punk. The wrestler."

"Well, yes," he acknowledged, "but I was also-"

"My husband's cellmate," she cut him off, again finishing the thought for him. "He… talked about you when I would visit."

Punk smiled; he couldn't help it. Maybe this would turn out okay after all. "Great," he said. "I was hoping I could talk to you?"

But to his surprise, Julia shook her head. "What for?" she asked. "My husband's been dead for a long time, Mr. Brooks. What could you possibly have to talk to me about?"

The frankness with which she spoke of her husband's death startled him. "Look, it's important," he urged. "I won't stay long; my family is in the car in your driveway. If you'll just humor me for a few minutes, I'll get out of your hair."

She considered this for a few moments, brow furrowed. "All right," she said finally with a sigh. "Come on in, then." She stepped back from the door, allowing him into her home. "Okay, so what is this about?" Before he could answer her, his eyes were drawn to the stacks of cardboard moving boxes that cluttered the living room. The area was startlingly empty, with only furniture being a single faded couch and an old coffee table in the middle of the room.

"Are you… moving?" he asked.

"My house was foreclosed on," she answered stiffly. "We have to be out by the end of the month. But you didn't come here to talk about my financial woes, did you?"

"Well, actually…" Punk replied slowly, "I did. Mrs. Ellerman-"

"Julia," she corrected. "Please, I'm only 32."

"Julia," he said with a nod. Then he sighed. He just had to come right out and say it, before he lost his nerve. "I don't really know how to do say any of this. I've been rehearsing it over and over in my head, but it all sounds stupid, so forgive me if it doesn't sound quite right. Your husband was a good man."

She laughed harshly. "Not too good," she said coldly. "If he was, he wouldn't have tried to knock over that liquor store that got him sent to prison in the first place, would he? I know we were struggling, but to resort to that…" She shook her head.

"Sure, he made some bad decisions," Punk agreed, "but he was still a good person. He saved my life, Julia. Some of the worst people humanity had to offer were after me, and Jake put himself out there by interfering in a fight, knowing it would make him a target. So in a way… I guess you could say I'm partly responsible for his death. And that's why I came here." He pulled a small, thin envelope out of his pocket and handed it to her, which she took from him with a shaking hand.

"What is this?" she whispered, her cheeks already streaked with tears. She carefully opened the envelope and removed its contents- a single check, signed by Punk. "$300,000? Oh my… oh my god!" Her shriek echoed through house, bouncing off the blank walls. "I can't possibly accept this!"

"You can," Punk urged her calmly, remaining in control of himself despite her outburst. "Jake told me you were in a bad state before the robbery, and his legal bills from his trial didn't help… This should be enough to pay off your debts, and give Jake a proper funeral somewhere." He again surveyed the stacks of boxes around him. "I don't think you can turn me down."

As Julia leaned back against the nearest wall to steady herself, a clatter of footsteps came crashing down the stairs. "Mom?" called a young male voice. "Who's there?" A boy entered the living room. He was older than Phillip- probably around ten or so. He sported springy red hair- just like his father. His eyes landed on the man standing near the door, and he let out a gasp. "You're- you're CM Punk! What are you doing here? Mom, what's he doing here?"

Julia pushed herself off the wall to embrace her son. "This man knew your dad," she told him quietly. "He gave us a… a very special gift." She tried to choke back her tears, but she was overwhelmed.

"Oh," the boy said quietly, looking down.

"Josh, right?" Punk asked, and he nodded. "Come here. I've got something for you." Josh looked back at his mother for approval before cautiously coming forward, looking into Punk's outstretched hand. "Your dad always told me what a good boy you were, and that you were taking good care of your mom, so I got you a present. These are tickets for you and your mom to go to Summerslam this August. They're front row. When the time gets closer, I'll send you guys plane tickets so you can come out to L.A. to see the show." He smiled. "How does that sound?"

His eyes, formerly clouded and suspicious, instantly lit up. "For real?" he asked. "Wow!" He accepted the tickets eagerly, gazing down at them as though he'd been gifted the Holy Grail. "Thank you."

"No," Punk replied, looking from the boy to his mother. "Thank _you_."

* * *

"So?" AJ asked as they pulled out of the driveway. "How did it go?"

"I think they're going to be okay," Punk replied.

"You did a good thing," she whispered to him, squeezing his hand. "I'm really proud of you. I love you." She smiled sweetly at him, glad she'd been able to convince him to go through with it. Hopefully, this would put an end to (or at least reduce) the guilt he carried with him every day. He could be her husband again, unencumbered with the weight of his past.

"I love you too," he said. He glanced back at the house one more time as they pulled away, his gaze remaining on it until they turned onto the next block and it disappeared from view. He was confident now that he would be able to finally close this chapter in his life… and move onto the next one. With a small grin, his eyes landed on the WWE title belt in his back seat, spaced evenly between his children's car seats. In two days' time, he would be defending it at Extreme Rules.

AJ saw him staring in the rearview mirror. "Bet you never thought you'd have that again, did you?"

He laughed. "No, somehow I think I always did," he admitted. "This belt is at home where it belongs."

She smiled at him. "I'm just glad you're at home where you belong," she said.


End file.
